Unobtainable
by Toringtino
Summary: A classic love story of wanting what you can't have. No one ever said that falling in love with the unobtainable was going to be easy. GrimmIchi. AU, Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of its characters. Nor will I ever. No need to rub it in.**

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

My legs are bouncing and my heart is hammering, I'm so excited. I'm a total mess of nerves and the butterflies roiling in my stomach are driving me to distraction. I think I'm pissing off the cabbie, what with being unable to sit like a normal human being for more than three seconds at a time. But whatever, fuck it. I'm too damn animated to sit still, so he can huff and roll his eyes all he wants, but he's just going to have to deal.

As we round a corner and the all too familiar company building comes into view, my fluctuating heart kicks it up a notch and I feel pretty certain I may go into cardiac arrest before we even reach our destination. I simply can't allow that to happen though, so I take a deep, cleansing breath in through my nose and, through sheer willpower alone, manage to calm my neurotic spasming. Albeit slightly.

As the cab driver pulls up to the curb I realise my palms are sweating. Fuck. My every nerve end is on fire as I glance out the window and up at the magnificent, twenty-story building. As always I'm awed by its impressive size and beauty. I know it sounds a little weird to call a building _beautiful_, but damn, the place was like an architect's wet dream. It looked so open and inviting from the outset, with most of the offices boasting large, floor-to-ceiling windows and its structure made up of black granite and shining marble. I knew firsthand however that about ninety percent of those glorious windows were tinted, for privacy obviously. Didn't stop the place from being stunning though.

A blatant cough snapped me out of my marvel and, whilst keeping my eyes firmly glued to the almost hypnotic pull of the large company, I turned my head slightly in acknowledgment to the driver waiting for his fair, his livelihood I guess. I didn't need to look, nor ask how much I owed the man. I knew what the fair was exactly, and gave that plus a handsome tip because, well fuck I was just that damn happy, over to the man without even looking at him.

As I stepped out of the cab I was suddenly alerted to just how much adrenaline was coursing through my veins. My knees felt unstable, to say the very least, and my head was buzzing a little. I could feel my fingers twitching for the simple fact that they were itching to be active, and my sporadic heart was relentless in its efforts to make sure I collapsed before I got inside. All of this gave me pause for a brief moment and, as I tried my damnedest to stay my fucktard nervous system, I delved into thought for a minute.

I can't quite believe it's been two months – two _whole_, _unbearable_, _miserable_ months – since I was last here. 'Here' being the office building, more commonly referred to by the general public as Pantera S&M Inc. And no, okay, just _no_. The 'S&M' simply stands for 'Sounds and Music', so please, heads out of the gutter. Pantera Inc is a major record label and company based in Japan, but known throughout the entire world. Bands from all over would kill to be signed under it, and who knows, maybe some have because, from what I've heard, unless you're comparable to some of the greatest music legends of all time, then you aren't even going to get a second glance. It's harsh and it's cutthroat, but hey, that's the music industry for you. And life, for that matter.

I have to be honest. I have no real interest in music. Nothing beyond what I hear on the radio and download onto my iPod, that is. But that's not why I'm here. No. I couldn't care less about signing a record deal – forget that I have no musical abilities _whatsoever_, neither vocal nor instrumental. Doesn't hinder me from singing along to my favourite songs though. Not in the slightest. What? Don't like it, then don't listen. Fuckers.

Back to the point, I'm not here for anything even remotely music based. I'm here because I received a text. It was simple, and straight to the point, but hell, it's not like I was honestly expecting anything different. Only wishing, I guess. But that's a story for later.

I received the text whilst in the middle of a pretty big painting assignment. Yeah, that's right, I'm a total nut for art. I'm majoring in it at Karakura University, in fact. I've always loved it, always been exceptionally good at it too. Or so I've been told. I've got _'the natural knack'_ for it, an eye for detail and a flawless technique no matter what I pick up as my utensil, or whatever. I've never cared for labelling anything, not even talent. The way I see it is; I like it, I'm good at it, so what the hell, why not do it?

And I did. I'm now halfway through my final year, and I still have no idea what I want to do after university. The dream is to one day own my own studio, much like my doctor father owns his own medical clinic. And hey, he's a complete loon! If that crazy old fool can have his own clinic where innocent members of the public are subject to his eccentric ploys and nominee-worthy dramatics, then I can damn well have my own studio. It's only fair.

And whoa, I went _way_ off topic. _Again_.

So I was dutifully painting a canvassed sketch of a jungle cat – I'm reluctant to tell you which, because I just know I'll be judged – as it treks across the sands of a barren desert, a quarter moon high in the sky and reflecting of the animal's beautiful, charcoal fur. I had a lot of fun with the painting, able to experiment with lots of blues and whites as I tried to get the gleam of the majestic predator's pelt just right. I think my professor will like it – she's always had a soft spot for cats.

I was so lost to the world as I worked, like I always am when I draw or paint. Honestly, I've had friends break down my door _three damn times_ because I hadn't answered their texts or calls. Guess I should be flattered they were that concerned about me – though I did make sure that _they_ paid for any damage.

I had had my earbuds in, listening to nothing in particular as 'shuffle' took control of my iPod and hence music choice, sitting on a stool in front of my work and covered in dabs of a whole rainbow worth of different colours when my phone buzzed rather unexpectedly in the pocket of my sweats. I'd thanked the deities that I had chosen that moment to stretch my back, leaving my artwork unscathed as I gave a manly yelp and jumped roughly five feet out of my skin. Yanking the damn nuisance out of my pocket all breath saw fit to abandon me and my eyes went wide when I noticed the number on the screen.

'_I'm back. Office as soon as you fuckn can. Don't keep me waiting Berry.'_

I'd been so instantly flooded with excitement as I texted back that I had completely forgot to scold the sender for using that damn nickname. I hate it, so naturally the sadistic fucker uses it all the time. I don't care too much, 'cause I give it back as good as I get it, it's just how we work – we berate, and annoy, and test each other's limits until we're both pushing at the very end of our tethers and just about ready to kill the fucking other with our bare hands…

And we wouldn't change it for the world.

'_B__e there in ten.'_ was all I had sent back. I didn't get a reply, but again, I wasn't really expecting one.

And that's exactly how I came to be standing outside Pantera S&M Inc, still clad in my loose fitting black sweats, a dark blue wife beater with an old, baggy grey zip-up hoody over the top. I'm wearing a worn-out pair of black converse and I'm still covered in paint. I didn't bother showering since I'd had one this morning, roughly six hours ago, and shit, when I'm told not to be late, then you'd better believe I'm going to be there as soon as humanly possible. Fuck the smudges of paint on my cheeks, collarbone and arms. Fuck the fact that my hair hasn't seen a brush since yesterday. Fuck that in my haste to leave my fairly cluttered, two bedroom apartment I forgot to make sure I locked my front door. None of that shit mattered to me right now. All that mattered was getting in there and finally getting my hands on what I had been denied for what was, in my opinion, entirely _too long_.

I pull my hood up to avoid the stares and gawks I know I'll get if I don't. That's what happens when you have hair bright and orange enough to rival a fucking tangerine. Stupid mass of unruly, uncooperative spikes got me into a whole mess of trouble during my first year of high school, but after beating my way through the sneering and jaunting populace at the place, it soon ended. At the time it pissed me off, but looking back now I can't help but feel it made me a better man. It taught me to stand up for myself, to not let others push me around. Sure it also helped me develop a perpetual scowl that I fear will never quite smooth out, but hell, it's a small price to pay where pride and ego are involved.

Willing myself not to break into a sprint, I finally push into the lobby of Pantera Inc. Just like the outside, it's so wonderfully inviting and marvellously sculpted. It's all swirling marble and everything is trimmed in glittering black granite. That may sound cold and unpleasant to some, but the plush white carpets and soft glowing lights make it seem so warm and appealing.

I approach the front security desk, where an absolute tank of a man is seated behind a tall reception area. He looks up with bored brown eyes, gazing at me but definitely not seeing me.

"Remove anything metal, sharp or potentially dangerous, put it in the box and step through the detector," he tells me rather mechanically.

I cock a brow, unable to hide a small smirk. "Say that any more robotically and you won't have to rely on your large size to kill people."

This causes him to really take me in this time, and although he frowns at first, recognition soon dawns over that gigantic, tanned face and a large grin cracks across his face.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the lil' Strawberry," he states, standing up to tower a good foot over me. Seriously, the guy is _monstrously_ huge. I'm convinced he eats smaller humans for breakfast. "It's been a while, kid. How's it goin'? Still gettin' yer ass smacked around fer that ungodly mop of hair?"

I could feel my right brow twitch in annoyance for several different reasons, but decided to hold back on my frustrations for now. I had places to be.

"It hasn't been nearly long enough, if you ask me," I retort, my scowl deepening. "And I do not get my 'ass smacked around', asshole. If anything, I'm the slapp_er_, not the slapp_ee_."

I realise the folly of my words as soon as I say them, but it's too late to take them back now. Unfortunately the security guard, Yammy, noticed too and isn't trying in the slightest to rein in his mocking chuckles, leaving me to cross my arms irritably. Figures that the only time he isn't as slow as a fucking ox is when I make a tit out of myself.

"You said it, kid," he laughed, sitting back down and waving his hand. "Go on through. I guess I trust ya enough not to go around shootin' up the place'r nothin'. And even if ya do, you're the boss man's problem. He can take care'a ya."

"Yeah, yeah." By now I was already on the other side of the small, walkthrough metal detector. "Later, Yammy."

The second receptionist was yet another familiar face. Then again, after coming here on and off for the past near three years, it's hardly surprising that I recognise a lot of faces–

"Oh, Ichigoooo~!"

–and they me.

"Hey, Yumi," I greet the entirely too feminine man sitting behind the desk. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine," Yumichika Ayasegawa replied, inspecting perfectly manicured nails as I approached the desk.

For a dude, this guy had the creamiest, most flawless complexion I think I'd ever seen in my life – on either sex. His raven hair was practically gleaming under the white lighting, sitting poker-straight along his jaw line and framing his girlish features nicely. I had no doubt that the man had a real Marsha Brady thing going on, and brushed his hair at _least_ five hundred times before he left the house.

I could see his violet eyes now scanning the computer screen in front of him, a mirthful smirk tugging at the corner of his full lips as he "Hmm"ed and made a conscious show of what he was doing. I groaned inwardly, knowing precisely what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

"How strange," he commented, acting genuinely stumped. God he pissed me off sometimes. "There's nothing in today's schedule that even mentions your presence. Isn't that peculiar?" I gave him a deadpan look that I hoped spoke volumes, resisting the urge to punch his 'perfectly symmetrical' face in. "Am I to assume that this is a…_social_ visit?"

"I don't have time for this." I thrust my hand out, palm facing up. "Give me the damn card before I'm forced to un-pretty your facial features."

Yumichika hid a giggle behind his hand. "My, my. So impatient, Ichi…"

"Yumi…"

My eyes narrowed considerably, my threat left hanging in the air. I found myself somewhat glad that the receptionist's lover wasn't around at the moment. He was another security guard, was fiercely protective of his slender partner and, oh yeah, _certifiably insane_. I rarely crossed paths with the bald headed bastard without gaining a new cut or bruise. Don't get me wrong, Ikkaku was fucking legendary, but holy shit – testosterone and bloodlust much?

Yumichika looked like he was going to tease me further, just for kicks I assume, but a low growl and another pointed thrust of my open hand cut him off. With a dramatic sigh he finally reached into a drawer behind his lavish marble desk, producing a spare employee key card to the fortified elevators seconds later. He slapped it into my hand, holding it there for a second to catch my eye.

"Seriously though, it's good to see you Ichigo. From what I hear, the Big Boss has been going nutty these past lot of weeks, and I think you may be just what the doctor ordered."

I blinked, unsure of what to say to that. Usually the extent of our interaction was Yumichika ragging on at me until I snapped and insulted him for being a Nancy-boy, by which point the ever psychotic lover-man would jump into to defend his partner – only ever fuelling my antagonistic jibes at Yumichika's feminine qualities. I mean come on, damsel in distress anyone? We'd fight and bicker, all in good humour of course, until we're pried apart by Yammy 'The Human Tank' Llargo. We'd all share a laugh and words of a rematch then be on our merry ways. So yeah, Yumichika's words just now were rather baffling.

Feeling a little awkward, and a whole lot embarrassed, I simply nodded and uttered my thanks before making my way over the twin elevators off to the left. I swiped the key card and waited, trying my best to ignore the fact that I knew the girly-boy was staring at me. I sighed with relief when the doors to my right dinged open and quickly shuffled inside, hitting the button for the top floor.

Finding myself all alone with my thoughts, and with nothing better to do, I started fidgeting again, watching the buttons on the panel lighting up as the car passed each floor. During my brief exchange with the others, I had momentarily forgotten just how jittery and excited I had been, and as the feelings rushed back now I found myself getting short of breath. I started tapping my foot impatiently, glaring as number fifteen of twenty lit up. Had this damn thing always been _so fucking slow_?

I practically propelled myself out of the doors as soon as they opened on my designated stop, walking hurriedly down the corridor like a man on a mission. Which I suppose I was.

With blood roaring eagerly in my ears and my eyes trained on the double doors I so badly wanted to burst through, I would have completely bypassed a certain PA without a seconds hesitation – had she not seen me coming and glomped me on the spot, that is.

Unprepared for the friendly attack, I toppled over backwards, pulling the light, female form down with me. Not that I had much of a choice in the matter when her arms were locked around me in a vice-like grip that would put professional wrestlers to shame.

"F-Fuck…Nel, I…ughn…" I struggled for words as the girl's wiry arms enclosed around my chest, her hands locked around my back as she proceeded to wring every last breath from my lungs. "C-Can't br-breathe…Nel!"

"Oh! Sorry Itsygo!"

The appendages bound around my midsection loosened and retreated, leaving me to gather greedy inhales of air as the girl sat back on her knees. She gave me a brilliant, heart-winning smile, her long, sea-foam green hair falling around her beautiful face as hazel eyes crinkled from the width of her beaming mouth.

"You really need to learn your own strength, Nel," I stated as she got to her feet and extended a small, dainty hand out to me. I took it and she, quite successfully, hoisted me to my feet, causing me to slam bodily into her. I couldn't help but blush uncomfortably as I felt her rather ample chest pressing into mine. "Seriously."

Nelliel Tu Jaegerjaques giggled, wrapping her arms around me in a warm – and considerably less life-threatening – embrace. I smiled and returned the gesture.

"I missed you, Itsy," she sighed wistfully against my shoulder.

I hugged her a little tighter in response, murmuring into her hair, "Yeah. Me too."

She pulled back, giving me a good look at her at long last. She was about the same height as me, around 5'9", something that always intimidated me slightly. Not that I would ever tell her that. Her hair was down today, tumbling past her slender shoulders, her long bangs parted at her forehead to showcase a gorgeous, round face and shimmering doe browns. Her curvaceous body had been poured beautifully into a white summer dress, one that hugged her hips and chest provocatively, whilst the rest billowed out to her knees. White pumps and a light dusting of make-up completed her look.

I'd be the first to admit; she was absolutely _banging_.

"You look stunning, Nel." I simply couldn't help but compliment her, the words formulating before I'd even realised I was talking. Sometimes it was a damn shame she did nothing for me – but that didn't mean I didn't appreciate her very apparent appeal. Not at all.

"Awh, thanks Itsy!" she beamed, giving me the full view with a graceful twirl. She seemed to take a moment to drink me in before cutely scrunching up her nose. "It's a pity I can't say the same thing about you. Not today at least."

"Um, yeah." I spared a quick glance down. "I was, uh…in a hurry."

Nelliel smiled before giving me a conspiratorial wink. "I'll bet. Look, I don't wanna hold you up – I was waiting for you to get here so I could go out and grab a bite, actually. You would not believe just how hungry I am, like, _soooo_ hungry. The flight back was uber long and just _awful_, and the food was terrible–"

I sighed. "Nel…"

"–well, not _terrible_, but y'know, it _is_ aeroplane food, and I–"

"_Nel_…"

"–'ve just been dreaming all day of a big, greasy burger from that little bar around the corner, you know the one, it has the cute little veranda out front and–"

"Nel!"

Thankfully this time I got through to her, though instantly felt bad for startling her, causing her to jump and cut off mid-sentence. But honestly, the girl is even worse than me when it comes to spacing out. It had to be done.

When she raised a brow in question to my little outburst, I gave her a pointed look and simply said, "Focus."

"Huh?" It took a few seconds, then it clicked and she grinned sheepishly. "Oh yeah, sorry Ichi. Guess I got a tad sidetracked…"

"Just a little," I affirmed in a teasing tone.

"Right, so, as I was saying, I'm going to make myself scarce for a couple of hours. But I just thought I should give you the heads up that brother is in a foul mood. He didn't sleep well on the plane, hasn't eaten anything substantial in days, and…" She draped an arm around my shoulder, cupping a hand around her mouth to whisper in my ear. "Between you and me, I think he missed his Berry too much to function properly."

I could feel my heart warming at such consideration – that he would actually care enough about me to _miss_ me when he was away was a nice thought, a _very_ nice thought, but it was completely useless to get my hopes up about such a notion. Thinking such things was only setting me up for a fall too high to ever recover from, and although there were a few times I had entertained the idea that there might actually be something more than what showed on the surface, I had quickly quashed such idiotic fantasies. It was ridiculous, and utterly hopeless, and I wouldn't let myself fall any deeper than I already had. It hurt enough as it was.

Nelliel finally released me, ducking behind her small yet beautifully crafted oak desk to grab her clutch purse. Checking to make sure she had everything she needed, she gave herself a swift nod and stepped forward to give me a small kiss on the cheek.

"Go get 'im, tiger," she declared happily before skipping off down the hall, her long hair and flowing dress bouncing with her every step.

I waited until she was right out of sight before turning to face the imposing doors behind me. I swallowed thickly, my previous enthusiasm now tainted with a heap of emotions I simply didn't care to deal with at the moment. _Dammit Nel_, I muttered to myself. _Couldn't just keep your mouth shut…_

I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, inwardly reciting a mantra of _"Don't be such a pussy!" _before throwing open the doors and striding in like I owned the damn place, hoping against all odds that it looked as confident as I had intended it to.

The first thing I noticed was that I _didn't_ notice him. The ridiculously spacious office was empty.

Feeling more than a little deflated, I took the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the familiar surroundings. Directly ahead of me was the man's large, cherry wood desk, with a gigantic window situated directly behind that – and when I say gigantic, I mean that the damn thing was acting as the wall, allowing light to flood into the roomy area. The walls were painted in a calming blue tone and the carpet was pristine white. Two white leather couches sat facing each other to the left, a stylish glass coffee table in between them and a royal blue shag rug covered the area beneath them. To the right was a mass of filling cabinets and, tucked into the far corner, was a minibar, complete with pine wood bar and four stools. A state of the art white Mac computer sat on the desk, accompanied by a black Mac laptop sitting neatly beside it. A 60" flat screen TV was pinned up to the wall beside the couches, and an impressive sound system for listening to and sampling music was hooked up all around the room. The rest of the space on the walls was littered with signed instruments and photographs, as well as gold and platinum records.

Taking it all in, I couldn't help but smile. Everything about this room had his signature all over it – sleek gadgets, rich furnishing, pricey booze, I could even smell the nicotine of his favourite cigarettes if I breathed in deep enough. The place seemed to scream "filthy rich, arrogant, obnoxious, pompous, self-centred, cocky bastard". But that's cool. In fact, it only served to stretch my smile all the wider. It was just so fitting, so accurate, so…

"Grimmjow."

I let his name roll off my tongue like silk, and when strong arms wrapped around me from behind I didn't even flinch. The smell of his expensive cologne, of his designer shampoo and body wash, even his very _skin_, was emblazoned into my senses, so when he had tried to sneak up on me from behind his efforts proved fruitless.

I had literally smelled him coming.

"Berry." His voice was low and husky, just like I'm used to hearing it, and _oh god _it sets my blood on fire every damn time. He pressed himself tight against my back, his rough lips brushing against my ear and causing me to shudder pleasurably. "You're late."

I frowned, trying my best to concentrate on what he was saying. That always proves a hard feat when he's so close, when he's _touching_ me.

"Huh?" I ask stupidly.

I felt sharp teeth nipping at the skin behind my ear, making me – ugh – _mewl_. "I said you're late, Berry. You told me you'd be here in ten minutes, and you kept me waitin' for thirteen – oh, wait, make that _fourteen_ minutes."

"You actually counted?" I couldn't help but chuckle, bringing my hands up to rest on his strong forearms. "That's kinda sad, Grimm. Did you actually miss me that much you were counting down the minutes?"

"Tch." His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing to the back of my neck. "Like ya didn't miss me too."

I turned in his arms to face him at last, gazing up in to the captivating cerulean eyes that had held me prisoner for the past two and a half years of my life. Dressed in a black Armani suit and powder blue shirt, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Chairman and CEO of Pantera Inc – the same smug jackass who thought it would be hilarious to put 'S&M' in the title of his company – was my biggest addiction, like a living, breathing personal supply of crack cocaine. He was the single most infuriating man I had ever met in my life, bar none. He was rude, conceited, brash, had a mouth like a fucking sailor and a temper connected to a fuse even shorter than my own. But fuck it all, when I looked into those searching blue pools to find them burning with barely contained lust and unbridled desire, I just couldn't bring myself to care about anything else.

I wanted to yell, _'I missed you like fucking crazy! Every single day has been torture to the highest degree and all because you and that shit eating grin of yours fucked off halfway across the fucking world, you damn bastard!'_

I didn't, of course. Instead I settled for draping my arms around his neck, my fingers delving into unnatural – yet completely natural, if you catch my drift – electric teal locks.

Grimmjow's hair was as wild as my own, sporting a continual just-out-of-bed tousled look that was sexy as holy sin. He usually wore a whole myriad of hair products in a futile effort to try and tame the unruly locks in some manner, which, just like my own, never really worked. But as I ran my hands through the strands now I was pleasantly surprised to find them silky soft and free of any cosmetics. I wondered briefly if he had done that for my benefit, before quickly dismissing the idea. Sure he knew that I loved to trail my fingers through his unblemished hair, but that didn't mean he'd forgone his usual styling just for my preference. He'd probably not seen fit to do anything with it because he'd be travelling all day.

Yeah, that was probably it.

"I got by okay," I answered him, fisting my hands to pull lightly at his hair.

He growled at the action and my knees went weak at the sound. From my position I could see him closely examining my face and felt my ears burning as a result. The fucker was a total sadist, deriving obscene amounts of pleasure in my torture and humiliation – hence the feral smirk ripping across his mouth right now.

"There it is, that sexy little blush of yours," he purred, pulling me flush against him, one large, calloused hand cupping the back of my neck and the other wrapping tight around my waist. He leaned forward, catching me off guard by nuzzling his nose into my hair and inhaling deeply. "Fuck, Ichigo. I haven't stopped thinkin' about ya since I fuckin' left."

I can't even begin to describe what hearing _his_ voice saying _my_ name does to me. Not that stupid nickname, but my _actual_ name. I love it. The way his voice drops a few octaves when he utters it, how it purrs so fucking deliciously off his tongue and makes it sound like I'm his possession. That used to piss me off like nobodies business, but I've long since come to accept the fact, the one where I am the property of Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. If anything, I live to fulfil that role, because I know he's all I'll ever want.

"The whole way here," he continued, the hand settled at my waist beginning a slow roam of my lower back, "all I could think about, all I could fuckin' _see_, was you. Your ridiculous orange hair…" Strong fingers tugged at the spikes at the nape of my neck, exposing my throat to him. "Your peachy skin…" A hot, wet tongue laved a trail up my neck, ripping a particularly wanton moan from the depths of my soul. I felt him shudder in anticipation – it turns him on when I'm vocal, so I make a point to be loud, just for him.

"Wh-What else?" I asked, my fingers clutching their silky surroundings for what seemed like dear life.

I was painfully hard right now, and I had no doubt that he could feel just how badly I ached for him through the loose material of my sweats, pressed together as we were. It was quite pathetic really. Here I was, trembling and stuttering in his arms like a needy whore and he hadn't even _kissed_ me yet. Damn.

Grimmjow chuckled. It would appear he was enjoying teasing me. Fucker.

"Oh, I don't know. Let's see, ne?"

He unzipped my jacket, the sound deafening to my ears as he did it with a deliberate slowness. He tried to slide it from my shoulders, but I just couldn't bear to let go of him. He probably had no idea, but he was the only thing keeping me on my feet right now, and I had absolutely no intention of letting him go just yet. He simply chuckled and pulled it back to expose my shoulders, his lips gliding over the bare flesh whilst his hands grazed up and over my stomach, hiking my t-shirt up with them.

"I've missed this…" I groaned when his teeth scraped across the clavicle of my collarbone, my head lolling back and my eyes clenching shut. The sound abruptly cut off however as my breathing hitched when he brushed the pads of his thumbs over my nipples. "…and these."

"Ah, Grimm…" I gave a heady moan when those talented fingers pinched the sensitive buds, grinding myself hard against the older man.

Obviously pleased with the effect his toying was having on me, the teal haired sadist continued his torment. His rough hands trailed down my sides, blunt nails gently scratching and making me shiver. They travelled down my legs and to the back of my thighs, rubbing teasingly.

"I've missed these mile-long legs that look so good wrapped around me," he purred, his mouth now dangerously close to my ear. His hands found my backside, giving it a hearty squeeze and tearing another keening mewl from my lips. "And how could I not miss this perfectly shaped, entirely too fuckable ass? The thought of that tight heat grippin' my hard cock _so good _got me through many a night, Berry…"

Grimmjow's pretty big on the dirty talk for two reasons; a) because he knows it gets me off when we're going at it like hormonal teenagers, and b) because it simultaneously has the power to turn me cherry red with embarrassment. Much like right now, I imagine. He doesn't stop to tease me, for which I'm grateful though not entirely surprised. He's is, after all, in the same boat as me right now, his own powerful erection very evident against my hip.

"I've definitely missed little Ichi." I can't see his face, but I just know the dickhead's smirking.

He accentuates his point by surging his hips against mine and my eyes roll into the back of my skull as lust consumes me. My fingers tightened their grasp in his hair, eliciting a rumbling growl deep in Grimmjow's chest that vibrated through to my own.

"Don't give my dick nicknames, asshole," I snap. My words lost a lot of their heat due to the fact that they were panted out, but oh well.

Grimmjow chose to completely ignore me, instead snapping my head forward so that I'm forced to look at him. He looks so feral and delicious, such heavy waves of desire that rival even my own rolling off him that I can't help but whimper and lick my lips at the sight. His eyes follow my movements, and I can feel the searing heat coiling in my abdomen flaring up.

"Shit, Ichigo," he murmurs, his voice so gravelly and sexy that it gives me goosebumps. "Out of everything, I think I miss this the most…"

I don't get the chance to ask what before his lips are claiming mine in a searing kiss, both of us clutching desperately at one another from first contact. It was hard and passionate, but entirely too quick as he was suddenly drawing away again, his teeth pulling at my bottom lip. I smirked.

"So you missed my mouth the most?" I ask, my eyes hooded as I gaze up at him. "That would've been my third guess."

"No, baka," he stated with a roll of the eyes. "Not that it isn't a damn talented piece of equipment," he was quick to add, winking saucily.

I frowned, not entirely following. "Then what are you talking about?"

"I meant your face, ya moron," he scoffed, his cerulean eyes darting back and forth to take it all in. "I missed your damn face. Those big chocolate eyes that are always so fuckin' determined, those soft lips that I love to make all plump and red, even that stupid-ass scowl that shows ya for the brat you are."

His hand was cupping my chin, tilting my features upward for inspection as I stood immobile, struck dumb by his words. When he frowned suddenly, just a little crease of his brows across his forehead but enough to alert me to the fact, it drew a sympathetic reaction from me.

"When we're apart for so long, I sometimes feel like I'm not…I dunno…rememberin' you right," he explained, looking somewhat uncomfortable with his own words and thoughts. "Like I've forgotten the _exact_ shape of your nose, or got the wrong shade of brown for your eyes, or pitch for your voice…" Here he laughed and shrugged his head. "And then I think – fuck it! It's Ichigo, how could I possibly get it wrong? Especially when I–"

I cut him off with a rough and demanding kiss. I have no idea what he was about to say, and I guess I'll never know now, but his words up until that point had meant much more to me than I think he realises, and I didn't want to end up disappointed. And so I took the cowards way out, listening to as much as I dared, but leaving his thoughts unfinished before either one of us could regret what he had been about to say.

The contact was full on and instantaneous, both of us realising that we had wasted more than enough time as it was. I granted his searching tongue entrance to my mouth at the same time he wrenched my hoody from my shoulders, our fiery kiss interrupted for a brief second as my tank top went straight after it. Using his broad shoulders for support, I hitched my legs up around his waist, his hands catching my thighs to hold me in place as his tongue once again plunged into my mouth.

I moaned into the kiss as his wet muscle licked along the roof of my mouth before seeking out my own, rubbing and twisting around it sensually as he carried me off somewhere. I sucked on his tongue and delved my fingers through his hair, tugging hard and causing him to stumble.

"Dammit, Kurosaki," he mumbled against my lips. "At least wait until I set ya down before ya start gettin' all needy."

Just as he said this he dumped me down on what I dully realised was his desk. "Shut up old man and get naked already."

"Watch your mouth before I put it to better use, brat," he sneered, though still complied by starting to unbutton his shirt.

I could feel my fingers itching horribly to touch that lightly tanned skin as it was slowly revealed to me, my thighs tensing around him as my legs were still locked around his waist. By the time he'd reached the fourth button I'd had enough – what can I say? I have patience issues.

"Too slow, old-timer," I declared before proceeding to sit up and promptly tearing the thin material open, sending the little plastic discs he'd been working diligently on flying.

"Goddamnit, Ichigo," he groused. "There's _yet_ _another_ perfectly good shirt you've ruined."

I couldn't find my voice to reply, not even a sarcastic remark about how he had more than enough money to buy a fucking shirt _store_ let alone just one more of the damn things. No, I was far too busy ogling the bare skin finally exposed to me. Now me, I'm happy with my size and healthy physique, but where my muscular build would be along the lines of defined, Grimmjow's would be _ripped_. Grimmjow had the kind of body that most men would gladly sell their souls for, the kind that would make the cover models of Men's Health magazine green with envy – and it was all _mine_.

Without hesitation I leaned forward to latch my mouth around his right nipple, the sexy hiss my teal haired lover let slip doing wonderful things to my insides as my nails found purchase in his brawny back and his in my orange tresses. I teased the pebbled nub with my teeth, gently biting and suckling before drawing back to blow a cold breath over it.

"Not complaining now, huh?" I teased, turning a small smirk up at the other.

Grimmjow curled his lip, quickly shirking his shirt. "That's enough out'a you. Now, turn around."

I chuckled cruelly but complied, hoping down from my perch to turn my back on my lover. His hands were immediately on me, trailing down over my chest and abdomen, one stopping to dig into my hip whilst the other roamed lower still and crudely palmed my straining erection. I jolt of excited electricity shot through me, and I couldn't stop myself from rocking against the teasing digits.

"Oh fuck, _Grimm_…"

"Mmm, we're gettin' there Berry." His teeth nipped at the nape of my neck as his hips rolled forward, dragging another incoherent moan from my lungs. "Ya bring any lube?" Unable to respond vocally, I simply shook my head. "Hn. Well I haven't got any since we ran out before I left. Heh. Sucks for you, kid."

Even as he said those words I felt his fingers hook around the waistband of my sweats and boxers, slowly inching them down until my pulsing erection was freed and my ass was bared. He dragged them down to my knees, where he then let gravity take over so that they pooled around my ankles. Three fingers were then pressed against my lips.

"Make 'em good and wet," he purred seductively, his low timbre making me tremble. "'Cause that's your lot."

I readily complied, eagerly sucking the digits into mouth. I heard him groan behind me as I swirled my tongue around his fingers, coating them generously as I suckled greedily. I gave them a playful nip when I felt they were ready, and Grimmjow quickly removed them. He wasted no time, and I soon found myself moaning his name as he pressed not one, but two fingers into me.

"Oh god, Grimmjow…_ughn_…"

"Fuck," he growled, kissing along the junction of my shoulder as he quickly but carefully scissored my hole. "You have no idea how_ bad_ I wanna be inside you right now. I've been dreamin' about this day for fuckin' _weeks_."

In no time at all the third digit was inside me, Grimmjow obviously impatient and me just about ready to fucking explode.

"D-Do it," I breathed, my hips now rocking back onto his fingers.

"What?"

"Just do it already!" I snapped, my voice coming out in a strange mixture of angry, frustrated and aroused. I turned my head to look at him, my brow creased and my eyes resolute. "_Fuck me_, Grimm. I can't wait any longer. I need you. _Now_."

"Shit. You got it Berry."

Within seconds I could feel the tip of his leaking arousal pressing against my hastily prepared entrance, making me swallow thickly. Christ, I'd forgotten just how big Grimmjow was. I gnawed on my bottom lip to the point of breaking the skin as he steadily pushed in, stretching my insides to way beyond their capacity and racking my body with pain.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck_…" I hissed as I felt both my heads droop. "God, it hurts so bad…"

"Shh," Grimmjow soothed, his tongue laving at the nape of my neck whilst one hand circled around my front to pump my wilting cock back to life. I grit my teeth as Grimmjow let loose a strangled groan of pleasure. "Damn Ichi. I forgot how fuckin' _tight_ ya were. Yet another thing I've missed about you."

"Shut up, bastard. It's been _two_ _months_," I barked, wincing as he finally got himself fully seated.

"Tell me when, Berry," he stated, the strain of having to keep himself still obvious in his voice. "But don't go takin' all day, you feel fucking _fantastic_ and I'm only human."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered darkly, Grimmjow clearly too pleasure-dazed to notice I'd said anything. _Fucker…_

Slowly but surely, Grimmjow's gentle ministrations brought my member back to life, his wicked fingers against my heated flesh sending waves of heat simmering to my core. Feeling bold – and admittedly a little guilty for keeping my lover waiting so long – I rocked my hips back experimentally, finding the pain still very present, but not completely unbearable.

"For the love of holy good fucking hell, _please_ tell me that's my cue…" Grimmjow said in a voice scarily similar to a whine. "I'm fuckin' dying back here!"

"Hurry up and move then, idiot."

With both hands holding my hips in a firm grasp, Grimmjow slowly slid himself back so that he was nearly all the way out before quickly snapping his hips forward. Biting back another groan of agony, I put all my effort into concentrating on the pleasure the hand around my cock was granting me, waiting for the ache that was Grimmjow's dick plowing in and out of my backside to lessen.

This continued for about a minute or so, the grating pain slowly subsiding to give way to little streaks of pleasure, and then _it_ happened.

"Ah fuck! Yes!" I keened as a brilliant flash of white burst behind my closed eyelids.

I could feel Grimmjow smirking against my neck. "And there we have it."

Grimmjow's pace increased dramatically after the initial contact with my prostate, the once cautious, steady rhythm turning, for lack of a better word, brutal. He hooked his arm behind my right knee and hitched my leg up, widening his own stance so he could slam in harder, leaving me gripping onto the desk in favour of being driven _through_ it.

"Oh Gr-Grimmjow…_hah_, fuck…har-_nghn_-harder!"

"Mmm, that's it Berry, let it all out. I've two months worth of hearin' ya scream out my name to make up for."

His hand squeezed around my cock and I gave a loud, heady moan. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer, not when the ridiculously well endowed older man was striking my sweet spot with every thrust and his talented hands were working my throbbing shaft. A few more precision executed snaps of his hips and I could feel my balls tightening.

I reached behind my head, my fingers curling into sweat dampened teal locks. "_Ngh_, Grimm…"

Said man planted a chaste kiss on my lips, his tongue delving in for a brief taste before answering. "Yes, baby?"

I was too crippled with my imminent release to care about the stupid endearment. For now, at least. "I'm cl-close…so fucking close…"

"Good. Me too."

It took precisely three more thrusts before my head snapped back, 'Grimmjow' the only word my frazzled brain could produce as I came hard and fast all over my lover's hand and desk. Grimmjow managed a few more erratic parodies of his earlier performance before I milked a sympathetic reaction from him, the man coming with a husky growl of my name as his hot seed filled me up.

As we stood trying to recompose ourselves from our glorious high – me with my arms and legs trembling vehemently in their effort to keep me standing upright, and Grimmjow with his hands braced beside mine and his head resting between my shoulder blades – we were suddenly startled out of our peaceful state of post-cotial bliss by the teal haired man's mobile blaring.

With a grumble he gently pulled out of me, and I almost whined at the sudden loss. We hiked up our boxers and pants, Grimmjow glaring as he fished the electronic nuisance out of his left pocket. When he glanced at the screen he immediately sighed and scrunched up his face, a slightly pained expression marring his usually bold and cocky features. When he opened his eyes again he gave me a hesitant smile, those cerulean orbs full of regret and, dare I say it, _shame_.

Oh. _Great_.

I knew _exactly_ who it was from that look alone.

"Sorry, Berry. Duty calls."

Normally I would just leave when this particular problem arose, but fuck it all, I haven't seen the man in over _eight weeks_ and I'll be damned if I'm leaving here without at least five rounds under my belt. And so I wipe down the desk with a tissue from the dispenser sitting beside his computer and pop myself up to sit on it, silently communicating to the businessman that I'll keep my mouth shut. He seems to catch on to the not so innocent motives behind my delayed presence and suddenly his smirk is back full force as he nods and finally answers his Blackberry.

"Yo, babe," he says, his tone nowhere near as affectionate as the words would suggest and his smile dying on his lips. "Yeah, I know. I had to swing by the office to sort some shit out before I can head up to see ya…I missed you too, babe…"

I watch as he saunters shirtless around the room, the signs of our coupling evident on his skin in the form of red nail tracks and dishevelled hair. And no, before you ask, I'm not at all concerned about the person on the other line, not in the slightest.

Okay, so I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell when he talked in that loved up tone to _her_, even when it was totally obvious how fucking fake it was. It pulled violently at my heartstrings and made me want to break stuff just for the sake of it, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about the dismal situation.

After all, the woman currently talking to my teal haired lover is none other than Tia Harribel-Jaegerjaques, the one and only _Mrs._ Jaegerjaques – Grimmjow's fucking _wife_.

My name is Ichigo Kurosaki and I'm a twenty-one year old college student. I have my own car, my own apartment, a good circle of close-knit friends that I can always rely on and, oh yeah – I am irrevocably, head-over-fucking-heels in love with a very wealthy, very iconic, very _married_ man.

I, Ichigo 'Strawberry' Kurosaki, have fallen for the unobtainable.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there you have it. Chapter one of my first ever published story. How exciting! For me, anyways. Here's hoping there was enough in there to keep ya'll interested and wanting more, if not, I'm sorry I failed you..**

**There's more where this came from, obviously. And not just in this story. I have quite a few in the pipelines - and when I say a few, I mean like eleven. Started every single one of them too, just ain't got round ta posting them as of yet.**

**But yosh, that's enough rambling. I hope you enjoyed, if not, well, oops. My bad.**

**Ciao fer now,**

**Toringtino~**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of its characters. Nor will I ever. No need to rub it in.**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

I couldn't help but sigh in absolute satisfaction as the Kurosaki kid slumped against me, our fourth orgasm in just over an hour rendering us both a little, well, incapacitated.

I was now sitting on one of the couches with Kurosaki straddling my hips. The leather was uncomfortable and sticking to my heated, sweaty skin, but I really couldn't care less. His face was buried in my neck as he tried to control his erratic breathing, the sound of which was like music to my ears. His arms were draped around my neck, his fingers curled lightly in my hair as his hot breath fanned over my skin, whilst I was languidly stroking his back with one hand, the other still lingering on his left hip.

"That was fuckin' fantastic," I stated breathlessly, nipping at his bare shoulder. Kurosaki shivered against me and I smirked, dropping the hand on his hip to squeeze at the firm globe of his backside, producing an even more delectable reaction from my pretty lover. "Stop being so delicious, Berry. Don't forget, I'm still sheathed balls deep in that tight, goddamn sinful little hole a'yours. I could go again at a moments notice."

The kid's head snapped up at that, and he gave me heated glare. I wonder if he knows just how much I love that look? How seeing passion burning in his eyes – no matter where it stemmed from – turns me on. I hope he doesn't. He'd only use it to his advantage, the little shit.

"Shut up, baka," he groused, his fingers curling tighter in a clear reprimand.

I curled my lip, growling lowly. I _know_ for a fact that _he_ knows I love that shit.

"Damn brat." I sank my fingers into his deceptively soft orange spikes and tugged, forcing his head back. Kurosaki whimpered as I flattened my tongue along his Adam's apple. "God, why do you have to taste so good? I can't ever get enough."

And that wasn't a word of a lie. But it's not just his taste, fuck no. I can't get enough of his smell, his touch, the feel of his skin moving against mine, those soft as rose petals lips, the way his voice fluctuates and cracks when I'm pounding him into the nearest available surface, the very rare, genuine smile that'll break across his face when he's truly happy about something…

Christ, absolutely everything about the boy drives me insane with need. Want. _Desire_.

I'm so royally screwed. So completely fucked it's not even funny anymore. Because I know that, regardless of how often I get to see my one true temptation, it's _never_ going to be enough. Not ever.

And that fucking _sucks_.

I released my hold in his hair and was faced with stunning ochre eyes. Kurosaki has fucking beautiful eyes. They tend to change colour to accommodate his temper, like one of those bullshit mood rings you get in voodoo shops. I like a lot of those colours. For example, the lusty chocolate brown they turn when he's horny, or the honey-gold that flashes through them when he's particularly upset about something. But my favourite has to be the ochre. It signifies a lot of things; relaxation, contentment, fulfilment.

Needless to say, all inflate my ego rather nicely.

Kurosaki rolled his hips as I moved my mouth to suck on his collarbone, his chest arching into mine. I could feel my blood heating as he quietly murmured my name, his fingernails taking purchase in my shoulders.

"Mmm, _Grimm_," he purred beautifully. I swear, when he says my name it's like he's talking in a different language. No one says my name like he does. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to head home? You haven't seen _her_ in weeks and she–"

I silence him with a kiss. I know he hates talking about Tia, and, for some reason or another, I hate _hearing_ him talk about her. It makes my chest clench in the most unpleasant kind of way and I can't stand it. Maybe it's because I'm a highly possessive kind of guy, and I don't like the notion of my lover being upset over my wife. Or maybe because it pains me to see the Kurosaki kid in any way distressed. He's a free spirit, my juicy Strawberry. Such ugly expressions don't look good on him.

But who knows. I never have taken the time to figure it out yet.

"Hush up, Berry," I tell him when we break for air. He's panting and has a slight flush to his cheeks. Damn it all, he just looks so fuckable. "I'm already late due to this impromptu distraction, what's ten more minutes?"

Kurosaki gave an impish smirk. "Ten minutes? Gee, Grimm, you're such a romantic…"

"And you're a little cock slut," I bit back teasingly.

The kid blushed redder than a Texas sunset and I grinned. Trust Kurosaki to take it like a seasoned whore, yet blush like a virgin schoolgirl when it comes to verbalising our antics.

I'm not kidding about the whore thing either. Kurosaki has let me do some damn kinky shit to him over the years. He's let me tie him up, chain him down, spank him _hard_, use sex toys; dildos, vibrators, whips, cock rings. The little tease has also worn sexy lingerie just for me – I'm talking short, low-cut silk, revealing lace and fishnets, and form hugging leather.

It took _months_ of on-my-knees begging, but it was totally worth the small ding in my pride to see him parade around in next to nothing, and all whilst sporting that beautiful fucking blush of his. _Delicious_.

The images alone were enough to reawaken my previously spent arousal and I rocked my hips up to let it be known to the orange haired boy above me who I'd yet to remove myself from. Kurosaki moaned and pushed down to meet my lazy thrust. I grinned wolfishly at the sight of him biting his lower lip, trying his damnedest not to encourage me.

_Tch. Far too fuckin'__ late._

"Please, Grimm," he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Please what, Ichigo?" I replied, my voice husky as I rubbed my hands down his sides.

Kurosaki shuddered around me, probably in response to my using his name. I only ever use it when we're in overly intimate situations, cunningly programming him to react just like that when he hears me utter it. I smile, proud of myself.

"Bastard," he mutters even though his hands are tracing down my chest as I kiss and nip at his throat. "S-Stop, Grimmjow. You have to go home. She probably misses you like crazy."

Again I feel my chest tighten, and I don't like the sensation. Not one bit.

"Brat," I scold, biting down hard on his clavicle. "I don't _have_ to do jack shit. Now, are you gonna be a good little boy and shut the fuck up so I can have another go at tearin' up that sweet ass a'yours?"

Before he can make his decision, I decide to try and sway him with a bruising kiss. He immediately opens up under my lips, and my inner alpha snarls approvingly at his show of submission. I sweep my tongue in for a taste of his unique flavour and find myself moaning into his mouth when those wicked fingers of his pinch my already peaked nipples. In retaliation I bite down on his bottom lip, tugging and sucking on it before smoothing my tongue across the length of it.

"Damn it. _Fine_," he mumbles against my mouth, his slender fingers diving into my hair and yanking hard to snap my head back to meet his fiery gaze. I notice with a growing need that the orbs are a rich, earthy brown. _Fucking bonus._ "I was planning on getting at least five rounds in before I left today," he smirked, rolling his hips down and making my rapidly hardening cock throb from inside him. "So you're in luck, Jaegerjaques."

"Naughty," was my only reply before we met simultaneously, my hands curling possessively around his hips as he began to ride me.

As his keening moans and curses of building ecstasy begin to fill the room, as I watch his face scrunch and smooth in pleasure whilst he repeatedly impales himself on my cock, I can't stop myself from thinking just how lucky I am.

Here I sit, with the god of fucking perfection that is Kurosaki Ichigo writhing in my very lap, his beautiful sounds and sexy as holy-day sin body all mine for the taking. His ridiculous, luminous orange hair is damp with the sweat from all our rampant fucking, his peachy skin stained with the evidence, as well as my own. I can't see, but I jut know that his eyes are clenched shut as I lean forward to capture a dusky pink nipple, laving my tongue across the sensitive tissue before grazing it with my teeth.

"Ah, shit, Grimm…"

God _damn_ that low, gravely voice of his turns me on.

He picks up the pace and so do I, thrusting my hips up to match every downward roll of his. The tight warmth of his stretched channel is driving me nuts, constantly hugging and spasming around my length. I hit his pleasure spot and he screams out my name, his fingers clenching hard at my shoulders but, with a regularly practised skill, manages not to mark my skin. Don't want to have to explain any curious blemishes to the old 'ball and chain'.

"Fuck Ichigo, you're clenchin' around me so nice…" I manage to grit out as I execute another brutal strike to his prostate. "Are you close?"

He throws his arms around my neck and pulls me to him, his face rubbing into my hair. "Yes, Grimm…oh fuck, _yes_…"

I smirk at the breathy response and nibble on his earlobe, my right hand reaching between our sweaty bodies to encircle his engorged arousal. His head lolls back, a heady moan pouring from his lips as I rub the pad of my thumb over the head, my fingernail dipping into the slit as I smear the bubbling precome around. I chuckle and slam my hips into him harder.

"You're so fucking sexy when you get like this, Ichigo," I purr hotly into his ear as I begin to pump him hard and fast. I need to get him off before I blow my load, and I'm dangerously close myself. "Come for me, Ichi. Scream my name like the naughty little slut you are, and come for me."

"Nnghn, _oh god_…Grimmjow!"

I watch, rapt with lust as Kurosaki reaches his climax, his cum hot and sticky against my hand. With a hand on the back of his neck, I pull him down and mesh our mouths together, our tongues rubbing passionately against one another as he clamped down around me and the searing coil in my abdomen finally unfurls. I growl his name possessively as I come, burying myself as deep as I can go within him.

Our kiss slowed, becoming lazy and languid as the need for air in our starving lungs takes over. With one final peck and using my shoulders as leverage, Kurosaki raised his hips, letting my now limp manhood fall useless from his well abused hole. We both gave a soft sigh at the loss, and before I knew it my heat source was leaving me altogether. I frowned.

"What, no post-nirvana cuddlin'?" I ask, trying not to sound as peeved as I apparently am. "I'm shocked." I really am too, that Kurosaki boy loves all that pillow-talk and intimate shit.

My Berry cocked a brow at me from his position across the room as he gathered up his clothes. I inwardly crowed with approval at the slight limp and wince as he moved about, my sense of pride and ego sated as nicely as my raging libido.

"You have somewhere to be, remember?" he told me as he yanked his boxers back up those long, lean legs. "And dear god, please shower before you go home. You reek of sex and sweat so bad I can smell it from here."

"My favourite combo," I replied with a mischievous wink. "Besides, I smell like you. How can that be a bad thing?"

Kurosaki sighed as he threw on his sweats, crossing his arms over his chest when he was done. "Because, idiot, I'm sure as hell your _wife_ won't be too happy if you come home after two months of being away stinking of sex and another person! She's probably pissed as we speak because you've made her wait so long."

"Quit bitchin' at me already and throw me my smokes," I grumbled, tracking a hand through my hair. "And I highly doubt she's _that_ pissed when she told me she has a surprise for me."

Kurosaki scoffed as he routed through my pants pocket. "Yeah, I'll bet. Five thousand yen says it's her in a crotchless teddy."

I fought off the urge to shudder at the mental picture. Not because my wife isn't good looking, hell no! If Tia Harrible-Jeagerjaques is one thing, then that is hot as holy fuck. With mocha skin, piercing green eyes, messy blonde hair and a killer rack that would make any porn star sick with envy, she's a fucking bombshell. But I...don't really care for her. Not like I did in the beginning, and certainly not since I met Ichigo. To be perfectly frank, I have more feelings and affections for the orange haired brat than I do her, and I'm far more scared of losing him than I will ever be Tia.

And no, before you say it, I can't just break up with her and get together with my Strawberry – as much as I'd fucking love to. Unfortunately it's far too complicated for such a quick and simple fix.

"Here."

I was brought out of my musings when a pack of Lambert was shoved under my nose. I nodded my thanks and was just about to pull one out when I got a face full of cotton. When I snatched the offending article up I realised they were my boxers.

"Put those on," Kurosaki demanded, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "Seriously Grimmjow, I have to _eat_ when I go home."

"Shut the fuck up, Kurosaki," I retorted though pulled them on anyway. "You fucking love my naked body, so don't lie." I raked my gaze over his now re-clothed person before deciding to add an admonishing "Brat" as I finally lit up.

"Whatever, _old man_."

I felt my hackles rise almost instantly. Damn kid knows not only all the right buttons to press, but also all the wrong ones.

"What was that, boy?" I asked darkly, letting the smoke from my inhale billow slowly from my nose.

Kurosaki had the gall to laugh, his eyes shining with mirth. "Oh, I'm sorry _Pops_. I didn't realise your senility had gotten so bad. Want me to speak a little louder?"

"You wee fucker," I sneered, tensing in my sitting position.

I hate it when he does this. I'm twenty-nine for fucks sake. Kurosaki likes to think that that makes me old, just because he's still a bratty little kid. He knows it pisses me off, so naturally he calls me it all the damn time. Although it annoys me like nothing else can, it doesn't perturb me much. That's just the way we operate, me and my gorgeous Strawberry. We belittle and tease and exasperate; he'll call me old, I'll call him brat, we'll fuck until our hearts give out and the cycle will start all over again.

It sounds flawed, and I guess it really is, but I wouldn't want it any other way. I would want _him_ any other way.

With that in mind I looked him dead in those captivating eyes and smirked cruelly. "At least I don't need to get my kicks from unavailable, married men."

Ooh, _that_ one hit home and I watched with amusement as Kurosaki's eye twitched. I could feel my blood simmer and my breath hitch with anticipation, but for an entirely different reason this time.

I stubbed my cigarette out prematurely, but it was Kurosaki that moved first. I was ready for him though, jumping up from my seat to catch the elbow he'd aimed straight for my nose. My retaliation was swift, with a sharp blow to his solar plexus that had him stumbling back.

"Well, would ya look at that?" I sniggered, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "Looks like this 'old man' can still kick your puny ass."

"We haven't even started yet, gramps," Kurosaki bit back, straightening himself up. "You got lucky."

I was sure my grin was feral. "Che. Whatever helps ya sleep at night, kid."

We moved together this time, meeting in the middle to trade kicks, jabs and blows. This is the other aspect of our, uh, 'relationship' that I just cannot get enough of. Kurosaki is a skilled fighter, something he once told me came about so that he could defend himself against bully punks in high school that made fun of his abnormal hair colour. I say sucks for them, because the boy was a formidable foe even against the likes of me, who's been trained in all kinds of martial arts since I was old enough to walk.

And so our mock fight began…

* * *

><p>When my ditsy sistersurprisingly competent personal assistant sauntered in roughly twenty minutes later, she found me sitting on Kurosaki's back, one of his arms pinned beneath my knee and the other held up at an awkward angle.

"Say it," I sneered, completely ignoring Nelliel for the time being.

"Never!" came the garbled response, the kid's voice somewhat muffled due to my grinding his face into the shag carpet.

I bent his arm back further, twisting his wrist slightly so that he hissed in pain. "Say it Berry, and I'll end your suffering."

"Can't. I wasn't raised to be a liar," he spat back, though I could hear the mockery in his tone.

I growled, applying even more pressure to all three extremities. "Wrong answer, Kurosaki. Try again."

"Grimmy-nii, stop being such a big bully!" Nelliel complained. "Let Itsy go, I'm sure he did absolutely nothing to deserve this kind of treatment."

I narrowed my eyes on her, curling my lip. Surprise surprise that she'd rally around the brat and take his side. I'm convinced she looks at him as more of a brother figure than she does me, the traitorous bitch.

"Not until he says it!" I growled rather petulantly.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques." Oh great, now she's putting on that fucking mother hen voice. She's three years younger than me, but likes to think she can baby me. _Damn whore_. "Let him go or I'll _make_ you."

"Touch me and I'll kill him," I threatened her advancing figure, regrettably reinforcing my childishness whilst twisting Kurosaki's arm to make him cry out in warning.

Maybe I should make myself clear – I would never _actually_ kill Ichigo. How could I? Not only would I end up in prison because Nelliel would most definitely sing like a fucking canary, but I'd lose my favourite hobby, lover and sparring partner all in one go. Where would be the fun in that?

No, I only said it because even the thought of poor Kurosaki in danger is enough to make my soft-hearted sister falter – much like right now. And besides, the damn brat wounded my pride, he has to pay.

"That's a good girl. Now _you_," I pulled Kurosaki's head back and bent down to look him in the eye, "how's about you follow Nelly's example and do as you're told, hm?"

There was defiance flashing in those distinctly honey-gold orbs, his perpetual scowl firmly cemented in place as he glared at me. I grinned like the cat that got the cream, making sure that he saw it as I ground my knee down harder against his bicep.

When I let go of his hair he lowered his head in defeat and mumbled something into the carpet. I chuckled, leaning down closer to his head. "Sorry, I seem to have missed that. Care to repeat yourself?"

The mumbling was louder, and I caught a few words, but it wasn't enough to satisfy my bruised ego. Especially not now that we had an audience. My victory was going to be _oh so sweet_.

"Louder Berry~" I cooed, throwing the confused Nelliel a devious smirk as Kurosaki finally raised his head.

"I said Grimmjow is a young and virile man, and I'm…I'm…"

"Finish it, boy."

Kurosaki blushed hard and grit his teeth. "And I'm…his whiny little bitch…"

Nelliel's brows shot up at that and I could feel my ego re-inflating rapidly. My Berry on the other hand was less than pleased, and thrashed around with renewed vigour underneath me.

"Damn it, I said it you narcissistic asshole! Now get the fuck off me!"

"Yeah, yeah," I said as I got up, skipping neatly out of his strike zone. Didn't stop him from hurling a trainer at me though, which I only just managed to dodge in the nick of time. Damn, should have factored in projectiles. "Oh don't get your panties in such a twist, Berry. It was a joke."

"Fuck off, jackass."

"Oh Itsygo!" Nelliel was all over him in a second, crushing him against her large chest and probably squeezing the fucking life out of him. Stupid girl has absolutely no idea of her own strength – and if she does, well, god help us all. "Did brother hurt you? Ah, he's such a jerk sometimes! But don't worry, Nel's here to defend you now! I won't let him anywhere near you until he calms down, or at least until he apologises for being such a cavemanish brute!"

"Yeah, not gonna happen," I said as I casually pulled my suit pants back on. Wearing nothing but my underwear around my little sister makes me…well, it's uncomfortable to say the least.

I took my time buckling up, stepping past the (s)mothering hen and her struggling chick to grab my cigarettes. I waited until I had lit up and took my first, long pull before offhandedly mentioning, "Uh Nels, Kurosaki's turnin' purple."

"Huh?" She looked down and gasped, releasing her strangled prey. "Oh shit! I'm so sorry Itsy!"

Kurosaki coughed and spluttered, waving away her futile attempts at appeasing him. He turned furious honey eyes on me though. "_You!_ You were just going to let me suffocate to death, you dick!"

"Calm down, will ya? What use would you be to me dead, huh?" I took a deep draw of my cigarette, blowing the greyish smoke in his direction. "I'd have no ass left to pound mercilessly. By which, of course, I mean fuck _and_ kick…"

Kurosaki predictably exploded at the taunt and made a leap for me, but thankfully Nelliel jumped into action quick enough to hold him back. Like I said, freakishly strong.

"Don't let him antagonise you, Itsy," she fussed, forcibly hugging him until his thrashing and ream of curses died down a tad. She rubbed his shoulders in a placating manner and nuzzled her face into his neck – I can't say I was overly happy with the sight - I'm not big on sharing what's mine - but if it kept his fists away from my face, I could deal. "There. Feel better?"

"A bit, yeah." Kurosaki closed his eyes and sighed before turning a dazzling smile on the green haired bimbo. "Thanks, Nel."

Nelliel blushed and giggled. "No probs, Itsygo! I'd do anything for you, you know that!"

I rolled my eyes as she hugged him tight before skipping off toward the door where I now noticed a paper clothing bag. She picked it up and bounded to my side next, a slight scowl on her face as she presented the thing to me.

"Although you don't deserve my help after what you did to poor Itsy…here."

"The hell is it?" I asked, peeking inside.

Nelliel put her hands on her hips and quirked a slender brow up. "It's the shirt you told me to pick up for you, moron. Honestly, I know that sex usually frazzles your brain, but with Itsy it's like it melts altogether!"

I glanced up at my Berry to find him frowning and shifting his weight uncomfortably. I chuckled. If he hates it when _I_ talk about our fan-fucking-tastic sex life, then it goes _double_ for anyone else to mention it. And Nelliel has absolutely no shame. She's walked in on us more times than I can count on both hands, one time commenting that she would grill poor Kurosaki about what stretches he had to do to get into _that_ position before scampering off. He was mortified.

I thought it was fucking _hilarious_.

My smile from fond memories quickly turned into a deep scowl as I pulled out my new shirt. I glared at it like it had just slapped me in the face, before turning to the perpetrator of this particular monstrosity.

"The bloody hell, Nel? It's fuckin' _pink!_" I could hear Kurosaki sniggering. "Shut the fuck up, Berry!"

"It's not pink, Grimmy, it's salmon," my dim-witted sister defended. "The man in the store said so. And besides, I thought it'd look really good on you."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose tiredly. "First off, it's _pink_, no matter what way ya look at it. And secondly, why couldn't you just get me a blue one, like usual? Fuck, I'd've taken _purple_ over goddamn fuckin' pink!"

"Ugh, _booorrriiinnng~_" she sang, feigning a yawn. "Now hurry up and put it on! We don't have all day to mill around, y'know. Harri called me earlier, asking when you'd be home. I told her I was out on errands and to just call you."

"Yeah I know, I already spoke to her. Told her I had paperwork to sort here before I could go home." As I very begrudgingly pulled my hideous new shirt on, I discreetly checked the time on my silver Rolex. Shit, when had it gotten so late? I hastily pulled on my suit jacket and pocketed my keys. "Right, let's move out people. Kurosaki, I'll drop ya home."

Kurosaki shrugged, zipping up his hoody whilst Nelliel beamed at me and clapped her hands. "See Grimmy? I told you! You look so handsome! Pink is definitely your colour."

"Oi! I thought you said it was salmon?"

"Um, well…let's go Itsy!"

She hurriedly nabbed a hold of Berry's arm and hauled him out of the room before I could throttle her to death. I took the time to call Tia and tell her I'd be home at around six, absentmindedly fiddling with the silver wedding band I'd slipped back on – it takes a short refuge in my wallet any time I'm with the brat – before following behind the disastrous duo and locking up behind me.

* * *

><p>Roughly fifteen minutes later found us outside of Kurosaki's apartment building in my black Audi Q5. My other baby, a blue BMW X6, was in the shop getting a new interior after one of Tia's airhead friends decided her seat looked much better with a sizeable cigarette burn in it. <em>Fucking twat.<em>

I would lament the loss somewhat. After all, I did have some very sexy memories about that interior – most of which concerned a certain vibrant haired boy.

My third and final beauty was the pièce de résistance – a black Audi R8 convertible. That little stunner had women instantly creaming themselves and men seething with jealousy. She came out for events and signings – special, public occasions mostly. Luckily Tia knows not to touch _that_ car, let alone any of her fucking nitwit gal pals. In fact, I don't like people even _looking_ at it when I'm not around.

I completely shocked myself one day several months ago by letting Kurosaki not only _sit_ in the driver's seat of my sleek little baby, but actually _drive_ her as well. He was good though, treated her well. He damn near wet himself with excitement when I first showed her to him, and with all his whining and begging and pleading with me to let him drive, I finally just caved.

That and he promised me a sensational blowjob when we got back…

So I kept my end of the bargain, and he most certainly delivered on his. 'Sensational' didn't even come close.

"Thanks for the ride, Grimm," Kurosaki said, snapping me from my thoughts.

I grinned lewdly, making sure he caught the double entendre of his words. "Anytime, Berry."

"Dickhead. I didn't mean that."

"I know. But still, both were my pleasure."

Kurosaki allowed himself a small smirk as he unbuckled himself and reached for the door. "I'll see you soon?"

"You bet," I smiled, reaching across to curl my hand around the back of neck and pull him in for a searing kiss.

The kid must have forgotten about our small audience as he immediately parted those beautiful lips, permitting me a brief taste of his tantalising flavour. It wasn't until I deepened the kiss, Kurosaki sucking on my tongue and moaning lightly into my mouth, that Nelliel made her presence known with a quiet but clear as crystal cough. My Berry instantly jumped back, scowling at himself.

"Uh, thanks again." He threw open the door and slid out. "Later Grimmjow, Nel."

"Bye Itsygo!" Nelliel chirped, waving enthusiastically from around the back seat.

I smirked and gave a lazy, two fingered salute. "See ya, kid."

He gave a curt nod and closed the door, stalking off with his hands buried deep in his pockets. I watched him go, growling when Nelliel temporarily blocked my view with a flash of her skimpy white knickers as she clambered into the front seat. When the door to the lobby swung shut and Kurosaki disappeared from sight I sighed and pulled back out onto the road. We weren't two minutes away when my green haired nuisance's constant staring drove me mad enough to bark at her.

"What the hell d'ya want?"

"You're going to break his heart, y'know that, right?"

I glanced over at her inscrutable hazel gaze and frowned. "The fuck're you blatherin' on about now?"

"Ichigo. You're going to break him, Grimmjow." She sighed and shook her head, but didn't once look away from me. "I think every time hurts him just a little more than the last."

I scoffed in response. "Kurosaki's just fine, Nelly. He's a big boy, if he had a problem he'd tell me about it, not hide it away like some pansy-ass child."

"You treat him like a toy Grimmjow, but he's not. He has thoughts and feelings of his own and, if I had to guess, I'd say he has it bad."

"I do not treat him like a fuckin' toy." My grip tightened on the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white. "I care about the kid too much to do something so shitty to him." I pinned her with a stern glower. "And what the hell, _'he has it bad'_? The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

This time when Nelliel sighed she turned to face out her window, resting her chin on her fist. "Nothing, Grimmy. It's not my place to say."

And I wouldn't get anything else out of her for the rest of the journey.

* * *

><p>I finally pulled into my driveway at 6:08pm, about forty minutes after dropping Nelliel home and grabbing a quick evidence-cleansing shower whilst there before hitting the road again.<p>

As I parked up in front of the garage and began climbing the front steps, I couldn't help but smile at the memory of Kurosaki's expression when I first brought him here. Tia had been away on a two week vacation we both should have been on, but I'd been unexpectedly snowed under with work and couldn't leave, and so she ended up taking a girlfriend with her. Kurosaki had told me that my home most definitely was not a house, that, if anything, it was a 'mini-mansion'. His words, not mine. I'd laughed hard at his child-like wonderment and proceeded to give him the grand tour by fucking him in every single one of the twenty-two rooms in my six bedroom mini-mansion.

As I opened the front door now I was almost instantly salivating at the delicious aroma of some sort of home cooked meal, and hence headed straight toward the kitchen at the back of the house. Passing by the dining room I peered in and noticed a pretty tasty looking meal served by candlelight. I never did like eating with only candles for lighting, tends to bug the hell out of me not being able to see properly. But I'll cut her some slack and allow all the lovey-dovey, romantic shit to slide this time since I was away exceptionally long.

I walked into the kitchen to find Tia humming to herself as she stared out the large, bay window. The first thing I noticed was that she was wearing a flowing black dress with lace up the back and long slits running right up to mid-thigh on both sides.

I felt like crowing in triumph – looks like my little Strawberry owes me five large!

I managed to get right up behind her and put my hands on her hips before she noticed I was there. She wasn't normally one for spacing out, always acutely aware of her surroundings, so this was somewhat surprising. I decided not to question it as I brushed two of the three long, braided locks of her golden hair away from the back of her neck – the third fell down over the front of her left shoulder, so no worries there.

I kissed the smooth skin softly before she quickly took my hands and turned around to embrace me.

"Grimmjow," she hummed happily, tilting her head up to look at me. "I'm so happy you're finally home. I've really missed you."

I smiled, hoping it looked genuine. "Me too."

I placed a chaste kiss on her lips, but I really should have known better than to try and get away with so little as she sank her fingers into the fine hairs on the nape of my neck and kissed back with vigour. She sighed pleasantly into my mouth and I simply relaxed into the norm, wrapping my arms around her curvy waist as our tongues met in a pleasing greeting.

I couldn't help but frown, however, as I suddenly began to distinguish and discriminate; the taste wasn't quite right, the smell was all off, the hips were too curvaceous, the lips too full, the skin too soft, the sounds too feminine…

I broke away from our passionate embrace first, if only to stop my infernal monologue of how the person before me wasn't who I really wanted it to be, how Tia wasn't _Ichigo_.

"Mm. I've _definitely_ missed that," Tia murmured, smiling affectionately.

Again I was put in mind of my first conversation with the Kurosaki brat today and had to quickly push it aside. "Oh yeah? Well a nice boost to my ego is always an appreciated welcome home gift."

Tia rolled her stunning harlequin green eyes and gave me a playful dig in the chest. I rubbed at the 'sore' spot and eyed her up. God she was drop-dead gorgeous tonight, so sinfully beautiful – not unlike a certain carrot-top…aaaand I'm doing it again, thinking of that damn kid whilst in the blatant company of my wife.

_Ugh, Berry, what have you done to me?_

"You look stunnin', babe."

I took her hands in mine and stepped back to get a better look. There was just something about her…maybe it was the fact that I haven't seen her in so long, maybe it was the fairly goofy mood Kurosaki always manages to leave me in, hell, it could've been the lighting; but whatever it was, she was positively glowing.

"Really Bels, you're fuckin' radiant." Her smile widened a fraction and she blushed cutely as I pulled her back to me, nuzzling my face into her neck to get a deep lungful of that perfume I've come to recognise as her scent. "So tell me," I hummed into her soft, messy blonde hair. "What's this big surprise, huh?"

"Later," she replied, leading me toward the dining room. "Let's eat first. I'll bet you're starving after nothing but lousy aeroplane food."

"Y'ain't wrong there, sweetheart."

We sat down in our respective places, me at the head of the table and her by my right side. The dish was chicken parmesan with a green salad on the side and home baked bread in the middle of the table. It smelt divine and we got stuck right in.

Good food always put me in mind of Kurosaki's kid sister, Yuzu. That little girl was a fucking goddess in the kitchen. There was nothing she couldn't make, and everything was cooked to such perfection it was like it had been made for royalty – or the deities themselves. I absently wondered how much of her cooking I had missed out on whilst I was away. Probably enough to piss me off, at any rate. That damn Kurosaki brat had better text me the very _instant_ he's on the receiving end of any of her glorious cooking. I fucking mean it.

"Wine?"

Tia's sweet as honey voice broke through my musings and I gave a nod in the affirmative. I noticed that it was one of our more expensive bottles of red, from the ones we saved for special occasions or important guests. This made me cock a brow, especially when she poured only for me, leaving herself with a tall glass of ice water.

I swallowed my current mouthful and gave her a questioning look. "Okay, so what are we celebrating? Or rather, what am _I_ celebrating seein' how you seem to be leaving yourself out of the commemorations?"

I watched as an excited smile broke out across those full lips and her eyes lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. The sight was dazzling, if not a little bewildering. Just what in the hell was going on here?

"Oh, I can celebrate, just not to the extent that you can."

I furrowed my brows. "Am I supposed to understand what that means? 'Cause I'm seriously lost here…"

"I was going to wait until later on to tell you, but damn it, I can't wait any longer!" She promptly stood up and turned to give me her side profile. She pulled at the back of her dress so that the front tightened around herself and grinned. "Well? Notice anything different?"

"Uhh…" I stared for a moment, but ultimately drew a blank. The only thing even remotely noticeable was the slight bulge of her gut where there was normally flat, toned stomach. I smirked teasingly, giving her a cheeky tsk. "Fuck me Bels, how much did you eat while I was gone? I mean, it was only eight weeks. Yikes."

"Baka!" she scorned, slapping my shoulder. "I'm not _fat_, Grimmjow. About a week after you left I started feeling really sick, so I went to visit my doctor and, well…"

I could feel my heart stutter violently to stop and my blood congealing to liquid ice as my mind ever so slowly fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

Oh dear god, _please no_, anything but–

"I'm pregnant, Grimm baby! Thirteen weeks gone already," she beamed, throwing her arms around my neck as I sat there paralysed, my heart dropping somewhere deep in my gut. She drew back to look me in the eye, giving me another breathtaking smile. "You're going to be a _daddy_ Grimmjow, isn't it wonderful?"

I swallowed hard, pushing past the tennis ball sized lump that had lodged itself in my throat. "Fuck… I mean, uh, y-yeah. That's great, Bels…"

My voice was dull and cracked, distant. Thankfully Tia must have taken it for shock as she hugged me tighter, giggling uncontrollably as she peppered my face with kisses. I, on the other hand, have never been so upset to win a bet in all my life.

I am so utterly and royally _fucked_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: More drama. Yikes.**

**So there ya'll have it, chapter 2. After the absolutely wonderful reviews I got regarding my portrayal of our favourite Berry, I can only hope that I haven't let yahs down with Grimm. *fingers crossed* Ah well, I'm sure if it was terrible, I'll soon hear about it, ne?**

**Eep.**

**I am studiously working on chapter 3, and know that I could easily start 4 even now, so hopefully you won't be waiting too long for the next instalment.**

**Hope you enjoyed, and ciao fer now**

**Toringtino~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, bar the plot, which is sub-par in comparison. Boo.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

I sigh as I step foot into my apartment after Grimmjow leaves me off. I'm not entirely sure as to _why_ I'm sighing, I mean I feel pretty good right now. My body and carnal lust have been more than satisfied for the day, so much so that my skin is still a little flushed and my heart still hasn't calmed down to its natural rhythm yet.

Maybe I'm just tired, or hungry? In dire need of a soothing shower, perhaps? I can still feel the sticky remnants of my, uh, _coupling_ with the blunette on my skin, not to mention I can practically taste the salt from our combined sweat as Grimmjow's musk clings to me like a second skin. As I take another step forward I can't help but wince, muttering lowly under my breath as it becomes startlingly apparent that the dull throbbing in my backside is going to be hanging out with me for a while. Knowing my luck, and Grimmjow's tendency to use brute force during sex, I'll be sitting awkwardly for the duration of the entire week.

Or, you know, _the rest of my fucking life_.

That particular thought makes me want adorn my natural scowl and curse that blue haired bastard until I run out of vocabulary – or oxygen, whichever comes first – but I just can't bring myself to do it. Surprisingly, I find myself smiling instead. As much as I feel torn apart from the inside out, as much as I feel fatigued enough to sign up for a good hibernation program, as much as I feel, well, _disgusting_…I cannot wipe the huge fucking grin threatening to split my face in two off from my face.

Yeah it's fucked up, I'm well aware of that fact thank you very much. But there's really nothing I can do about it, especially not now when I've fallen too far to ever pick myself back up again. I may not have the guts to say it out loud, even to the emptiness of my own apartment, but I simply can't go back. Not anymore. I've grown to rely on Grimmjow more than I ever thought possible, and even though he is completely oblivious to the fact, I am so insanely in love with the man it haunts my dreams at night.

I scrub a hand down over my face as I shut the door behind me, thunking my head quite painfully off the wood as I lean back against it.

_How did it come to this? How did it get so bad, so out of my own control that __I didn't even see it coming?_

There are a few choice people I could blame for my predicament – my friends for instance, who just _had_ to drag me out on that, let's call it 'fateful', night. Or how about Grimmjow's staff for being far too nonchalant about the whole affair, and allowing it to continue on its cataclysmic course without a hitch. I mean, _come on_, in all the movies there's always one complete dick, or one total bitch, who just has to blab the secret to the wrong person, who then tells a whole heap of other prying busybodies, and so on and so forth until the dire situation comes back to bite the guilty party's ass.

But _no_. Grimmjow just _had_ to have decent, trustworthy employees. _The dick_.

I could even blame the whole thing on my dim-witted father for spending too much time beating on me rather than raising me right when I was a kid. Maybe one of those 'super-awesome-elbows-of-sheer-destruction' he's patented knocked a couple of screws loose, and I was forever destined to fuck up my life so royally. Who knows? I could sit and play the Blame Game until my pointer finger fell off, but that wouldn't be fair to those falsely accused.

There's only one person to blame for all this, and that's…

Grimmjow. _Obviously!_

Stupid egomaniac just _had_ to have his cake and eat it too, didn't he? Just had to set his sights on me and drag me down to the depths of hell right along with him. _Him_, with that goddamn feral smirk that showcases abnormally sharp canines, and those searing cerulean eyes that can bore holes straight through to your very soul with a single glance. And don't even get me started on that unholy mess of sexy, electric teal hair, or that sinfully taut expanse of corded muscle and sun-kissed skin he calls a body…

Hn. I may have veered off on a slight tangent there.

_Dammit!_

Okay, okay, you can stop rolling your eyes now. I know it takes two to tango, and that I have as high a stake in the culpability as he does. I just refuse to acknowledge as much, because doing so only points out all of my weaknesses… That initial weakness that saw me caving to his soul-sucking gaze and obvious flirting, then the second that had me powerless against his advances and muffling my screams of ecstasy into his shoulder as he damn near ploughed me through the wall of the bathroom stall we were in.

_Tch.__ I'd barely known him an hour…_

As soon as I found out he was due to be married – in only three days after our first encounter, no less – I know I should've ended it right then. Refused to ever see him again. Forgot about him. And, needless to say, that should have gone _double_ after he'd actually tied the knot.

But I couldn't do it, and god how I tried. After just one goddamn meeting, one phenomenal fuck, the goddamn sociopath somehow found a way of seeping under my skin. Like a deadly virus, he bled into my veins, snaking those talented fingers of his in a chokehold around my heart until he was all I could live and breathe. I was hopelessly hooked from first contact, and it was my powerlessness for a fix of him that spurred me on, that got us both into the never ending cycle of shameful lies and sordid affairs.

As a man, admitting to so many flaws is no easy feat, and should theoretically make me sick to my stomach. But I'm not some punk ass weakling, not in any way, shape or form. I can look after myself just fine, thank you very much. My hands may be able to create pieces of art more fragile than a crystal vase, but they are also my greatest allies. I didn't get to where I am in life by rolling over and playing possum, fuck no! My hands can destroy as readily as they can construct, and, if needs be, my bark can be worse than my bite.

Grimmjow once told me that he admires me for the rare spark of unbreakable determination I possess, for the ability to know what I want and push past impossible odds to obtain it. But honestly? I'm starting to consider it a curse more than a blessing. After all, if not for that, then maybe, just _maybe_, I'd be able to cut Grimmjow loose and just get on with my life. Go 'cold turkey' as it were.

_Che, right.__ And someday pigs will coordinate lunar expeditions…_

And, just like that, I'm sighing again.

Kicking off my black Adi-rise trainers at the door, I figure it's about high time I pull myself out of my soul-crushing thoughts of miserable inevitability and venture into the apartment that, technically, I've been inside for roughly _five minutes_ now.

Deciding that a shower is most definitely the right course of action at this moment in time, I rather sluggishly shuffle my way through the living room.

My apartment isn't anything too impressive – it's no Grimmjow palace, that's for fucking sure. It's by no means small or pokey, like I'd always figured my first place on my own _would_ be, but by the same token it's not exactly large either.

I guess you could say that it's liveable, if that makes any sense?

It has a studio kind of feel to it, where the living room, kitchen and dinning area are all open plan. The walls are cream, the carpet burgundy and most of the furnishing is black. Sounds a bit mismatched, but it works. The kitchen and dinning area have wooden flooring, and the kitchen is fairly modern with marble countertops, a touch-button stove and, _thank you holy Christ_, a dishwasher.

My unhealthy obsession with said appliance stems from having grown up with one sister that did all the cooking and general housework. I thought it only fair that myself and my other sister –Yuzu's fraternal twin – Karin, do the washing up between us to give our poor substitute mom a break. _Che_. That lasted about a week before Karin decided that as the 'man' of the house – my father doesn't count because he's a goddamn child stuck in an adults body, not to mention an absolute _whackjob_ – I should be handle something as simple as a few dishes on my own.

When I refused point blank to partake in the scrubbing of a single dish until my raven haired sister got up of her lazy ass to help, she dutifully reminded me that if I didn't do it, then Yuzu would be forced to – or rather, cheerily nominate to do so. Go figure, she actually _likes_ all that mothery type crap. Again, Isshin, my father, doesn't count – socially retarded man-child, remember? Hence once again I was forced to relinquish a sliver of my pride in order to help out my baby sister, and Karin, to this very day, retains the title of manipulative little she-devil.

_Damn brat._

Uh, what was my point again? Oh yeah, the dishwasher – or fairy-tab goddess, as I like to call it. When I first laid eyes on it, I felt so giddy with excitement and relief that I just _had_ to hug it. And I did too, for a whole thirty seconds. Yeah, I'm sure the look on your face right now is the _exact same_ look my roommate gave me.

What? You didn't honestly think I could actually afford to live in a place like this without financial help, did you? C'mon, I'm a _student_ for fucks sake! As if.

_Speaking of roommate, I wonder if he's home yet?_

I don't have too long to ponder the thought as I make my way down the small hallway connecting to the two bedrooms and bathroom. I have my hand on my room's door handle when I hear the bedroom door behind me opening. Thinking that it's my roommate, I turn to greet him – only to have my eyesight permanently seared as I, admittedly, squeal like a prepubescent schoolgirl.

"Oh, hey Ichigo," the cause of my blindness states coolly, like there is absolutely nothing wrong with the current situation.

Shielding my eyes with my hands, I can feel the skin on my face burning red hot. "Dammit, Rukia! Go and put some fucking clothes on before you dare start small talk with me!"

Rukia Kuchiki, my roommate's girlfriend of two years and established midget, simply huffs at my request. "Oh don't be such a prude, Ichigo. I didn't hear you come in."

_Didn't hear me come in?_ Well fuck, I'd like to think so, otherwise that meant she'd completely mortified me on fucking purpose! Not that the miniscule Ice Queen is above doing such a thing. Moments before my retinas were damaged beyond repair, I got a good view of Rukia's front profile as she stepped out of the room – her very _naked_ front profile.

I feel I should clarify that she's not _totally_ naked, not that that really helps the scenario I find myself in. She _is_ wearing a pair of black, lacy French panties; I know them to be such because I once bought a pair to wear for…uh, on second thoughts, never mind.

"P-Prude?" I manage to choke out at long last, my eyes still firmly covered and my cheeks still burning my palms. "I'm not a goddamn prude! I just don't wanna see your naked ass running around in my apartment!"

"My ass is not naked," she retorts, and I can hear the teasing mockery in her tone. "I'm sure you caught a quick peek, you perv, and thus know that I _am_ in my underwear."

Seriously, why is she still talking? Shouldn't she be looking for large pieces of fabric to cover up with? Stupid fucking midget hasn't an ounce of shame. Not unlike a certain green haired deviant I know...

"That's besides the point!" I yelp, reaching behind me blindly for the door handle and sweet, sweet freedom from this humiliating nightmare. "Just go and put some clothes on and don't come near me until ya do!"

I literally tumble backwards into my room when I finally locate the elusive handle, landing with an audible "oof!" on my backside. I don't look, but I can hear Rukia giggling and spouting words of "Ichigo's being weird again" as I kick the door shut with my foot. It's not until I hear the resounding slam of the wood banging into place that I pull my hands away from my face, giving my reddened skin room to breathe at long last.

"Damn short-arsed hellion," I mutter under my breath as I pick myself up from the floor.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that Rukia isn't pretty, because she really is; with choppy black hair, a fair complexion and big blue eyes so deep they shimmer violet under the right light, she really is breathtaking. Poor girl has a serious lack of cleavage given her tiny frame and the fact that she barely scrapes five foot, and also has an obscenely obsessive addiction to all things Chappy – some stupid rabbit thing, I dunno – but she's pretty harmless.

Unless she's angry. In which case, size _definitely_ doesn't matter.

_I learned that the hard way__…_

Given the fact that I came to terms with my sexuality within my first year of high school, Rukia – just like Nelliel and every other girl I know – does absolutely nothing for me. Same goes for the female anatomy. Hence my little, ahem, _freakout_ just now.

I barely have enough time to recover from the horrible incident before there's a sharp rap at my door. Thinking that it may be the midget back to inflict some more pain on my corneas, I hesitantly inquire as to who it is.

"Man, it's Renji."

_Oh thank fuck._

Swinging the door open I almost immediately regret the decision. _God dammit!_ What is it with people in this apartment and a lack of clothing? Was there a fucking memo I missed or something?

Renji Abarai, my roommate and good friend since high school, saw fit to grace me with the same sight Rukia had. That is he's clad only in black boxer shorts, not frilly underwear. Now _there's_ a mental image I think I could have lived the rest of my life not having.

Dear god, the past five minutes have been such a gag-fest I think I'm going to vomit…

"Rukia said you were actin' all weird dude," Renji commented, scratching at his long mass of vibrant red hair. "So I thought I'd come check it out."

"Without pants on?" is the first and only reaction I can think of. Honestly, just because he comes complete with a dick _does not_ mean I want to gape at his half naked, tribal tattoo infested body any more than I want to see Rukia's tiny, albeit perky breasts.

_Ugh, here comes the first organ…_

Renji, the complete idiot, just shrugs in response. "Couldn't be bothered findin' them. 'Sides, it's only _you_."

You'd think the fact that he lives with a gay guy would be enough to deter him from revealing much, if any skin _at all_ around me, especially when he's so adamantly straight he should technically be a homophobe.

_Evidently not_.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I feel another sigh is imminent. "Why the fuck is Rukia running around with no clothes on anyway? I damn near lost my eyesight!"

"Okay, first off, she _was_ wearin' clothes, she–"

"Don't even think about saying 'but she had knickers on'! It's not the same thing and you know it!"

Renji chuckled, crossing strong arms over defined, tattooed pectorals. "Whatever, man. Look, point is, ya told me not to go around fuckin' Rukia senseless when you were here, so I was simply makin' use of your absence. Could'a been worse," he added with a sly smirk tilting his thin lips.

I couldn't help but scoff. "How d'ya figure?"

His russet eyes were practically shining with mirth as his smirk turned feral. "Ya could'a walked in ten minutes ago and actually _heard_ the reason for her state of undress."

I fight off a violent shudder at the notion – and fail, miserably. "Okay. You got me there."

Renji grins triumphantly and cocks a hip against the doorjamb. I arch a brow, wondering why he's seemingly lazing around when he too should be off on a hunt to find clothes to cover up with. Then I remember that it's Renji, and, unless you spell things out _very_ _slowly_ for him, he doesn't tend to react to hints. He's a bit like how I imagine a baboon would be; good at mimicking, but not so quick on the uptake when it comes to solving the puzzle on his own.

_Kinda looks like one too_, I cackle mentally.

It's okay, I'm allowed to be cruel to Renji. We've long since passed that stage in our friendship where it's perfectly acceptable to rag on one another. We can even throw the occasional punch and, in very, _very_ rare circumstances get away with the odd nutshot, all whilst knowing that we'll wake up the next morning like nothing has happened. And, you know, spend the rest of the week in utter fear of retaliation – _especially_ where the latter's involved.

"So, where'd ya skip off to today?" Renji inquires whilst rubbing at his chin and successfully pulling me from my musings.

I baulk slightly, reluctant to say a thing. "Nowhere. Just popped downtown to grab some more art supplies."

"Art supplies, huh?" he asked, cocking a boorish brow that obviously said he didn't believe the shit I was spinning.

"Yeah." I gave him a steely look I hoped got the message across that I really didn't want to talk about it. "Problem?"

Renji leaned forward, piercing my personal bubble in a clear challenge. "So where are they then, these art supplies of yours?"

"What the fuck, are you my mother all of a sudden?" I can feel my anger steadily rising at his accusing tone. It's making my fists tremble. "Why do you care where I've been?"

I can see the cogs slowly rotating in his cobweb infested brain as the pieces of the puzzle click into place, and then suddenly there's this…_look_ on his face. It's a potent mixture of scorn and condemnation, and I do not like it. Not one fucking bit.

"Dammit Ichigo," he grouses, leaning back again so he can flail his arms around in order to better vent his apparent frustration with me. It's clear now. He knows _exactly_ where I've been. "When are you gonna wake the fuck up? I can't believe you went back to him, _again_. It's beyond pathetic now!"

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss, my voice laced with menace. "Rukia might hear you! And I don't need any of your goddamn lectures, _Abarai_."

The use of his surname alone lets him know just how serious I am. Then again, I'm always serious when it comes to this topic, just like he's always angry.

"Apparently you do, Ichigo," he retorts, his eyes narrowing considerably. "I'm sick and tired of the shit that bastard puts you through week in and week out. It's not right!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, averting my gaze to the side. I can't stand to look at the picture of absolute disgust on his face; it makes my blood boil and gives my knuckles a persistent itch to be embedded in his fucking jaw.

"No Ichi, it's _you_ who doesn't know what the fuck you're talkin' about. You're not the one who has to deal with the aftermath of that man's torture!" I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off with a raised hand. "Don't you even _dare_ try to defend him. I honestly can't fathom how you don't see that he's just usin' ya! Are you really _that_ blind?"

"He's not using me!" I bite back, causing Renji to raise a contesting brow. I don't really blame him though, it didn't sound convincing even to my own ears.

"Really?" he snorts, his arms once again folded. "It's been nearly three years, Ichigo. Tell me, has he ever _once_ told ya that he'd leave her? That he'd dump the bitch and spend the rest of his days with you instead?"

I can do nothing but grit my teeth and let a long breath out through my nose. Once again, the damn baboon has me cornered.

"Tch. That's what I thought. Ya wanna know _why_ he hasn't ever made such a promise?" Renji takes my continuing silence as a sign to 'enlighten' me. "'Cause ya make it _so easy_ for him."

I snap my head up to glare at him. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ that you never demand anything of him," he clarified, his eyes full of disdain. "You're far too chickenshit at the thought of losin' him, of tellin' him how ya _really_ feel and givin' him an ultimatum, that ya leave yourself wide open. Why would he leave his perfect little domestic life, when he _knows_ he can keep it and _still_ have you spread your legs for him at the price of a fuckin' phone call?"

"Shit Ren, way to make me sound like a common, back-alley whore," I growl, the taste of my escalating fury leaving an acidic taste in my mouth.

Renji sneers and dips in close again, and I can just sense in my bones that I'm not going to like the next words out of that big mouth of his.

"Well, that's what you _are_, isn't it?" he drawls in a dark tone. "That's all you'll ever be to that prick."

I halfway sate the horrid itch of my knuckles when I sucker punch him right in the gut. Remember when I said that we can trade the odd, playful dig? Yeah, well this is definitely _not_ one of those times. He took a callous swipe at my pride, at my fucking _heart_, so I took one at his goddamn face.

An eye for an eye, and all that.

"Fuck you, Renji," I spat bitterly as I barged past his crumpled form.

Rukia came running out of his room just as I stormed off, presumably because she heard the _thump_ of his fat ass taking an unscheduled seat on the wooden floor and the string of colourful curses that followed it.

I ignore her questioning of what the hell just happened, along with Renji's dark glower that I can feel burning holes through my back. I'm far too pissed off to acknowledge him at the moment, because I just know that if I turn around now it's only asking for a fight. At the end of the day Renji's a man too, and he won't take lightly to being assaulted, no matter the reason.

Stomping my way into the bathroom, I slam the door shut behind me, _hard_, letting everyone within a five mile radius know that I am in no mood to do…well, _anything_.

I lean back against the door and quietly slide down it, drawing my knees close to my chest. Livid adrenaline is pumping through my veins like a corrosive toxin, making my breath come out in short pants and my every limb tremble like a fucking leaf in the wind.

It's like this _every_. _Damn_. _Time_. If you didn't guess it already, Renji hates Grimmjow with a burning passion. They've never met, _thank fuck_, but the knowledge of my seeing him, or more specifically seeing a _married_ man, is apparently more than enough to set him off. Sometimes I wonder why I ever told the asshole in the first place.

Renji's told me countless times that he's not angry with me – _yeah, could've fooled me_ – that it's Grimmjow and his 'blatant disregard for my feelings' that ticks him off so much. After all, it _is_ Grimmjow who's the married one, the one who took a supposedly unbreakable vow to love and cherish his chosen other, his _wife_. To Renji, the mere fact that he could take said oath and yet _still_ fool around with me makes him the scummiest man on the face of the earth.

As much as I'd love to, I can't really begrudge the redhead his feelings. I've thought about it numerous times myself, and truly believe that if the roles were somehow reversed then I would be spewing the same furious spiel he does. He's just being a good friend, or at least, he's doing his best. Renji never was the articulate type, was never any good at putting his emotions into words. That's why it always ends up blowing up – in _both_ our faces. Him with his bad choice of wording, and me with my ever limited fuse attached to a whole heap of metaphorical dynamite, we never were meant to work on any kind of communicative level.

The thought that it could be any different than it is almost makes me laugh.

_Almost._

You want to know what the worst part is? It's that I know he's _right_. Grimmjow never has said a word of leaving her, and I've never once asked him. I mean, who am I to come between two people that have promised to share their lives together, to love each other until death tears them apart?

That's the way I see it – or the way I _used_ to see it, anyway. I'm not exactly sure what to think any more. My head has been so thoroughly scrambled, and my heart so brutally speared, that I'm not entirely sure what it is that I want. It's like when I'm around Grimmjow I lose my sense of morality, my basic principals of right and wrong. There are so many shades of grey it's all I ever see anymore.

I suppose the big question is–

_Can I really live without him?_

Sounds like a clear cut, black and white question, right? Fuck how I wish that was the case. Right now my, for lack of a better word, 'arrangement' with the iconic blunette suits me just fine. I mean, I am in my final year at college, which means that I'm constantly under the gun to keep up with my work. That in itself is challenging enough, without the added complication of a full fledged relationship dumped on top of it.

_Great, now I sound as selfish as Grimmjow_.

Not that I think he's selfish, per say. Immoral perhaps, maybe a little bit on the jerky side of dishonest, but not necessarily selfish. I mean, there's always the possibility that he loves me like I love him…right?

I slam my head back off the door, forcibly deleting the idiotic thought. If that was right, if Grimmjow truly did love me, or even just cared enough, then surely I wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

No, it's best not to assume anything. In fact, it's probably best to stop thinking all together. I can feel a monster migraine coming on and I really don't want to have to deal with that, plaguing thoughts of my blue haired temptation _and_ a fuming redhead all in one go.

Hey, even _I_ have my limits.

Figuring that my body has released enough pent up energy for me to safely support my own weight again, I slowly get up off the floor and make my way over the shower. Blasting the heat to near scalding, I take several deep breaths to calm my shot to shit nerves and divest myself of my clothes.

Stepping into the spray I wince, watching as my skin quickly blossoms in an angry red colour due to the heat. Embracing the slight discomfort it brings in favour of my internal anguish, I place my palms flat against the cool tile of the wall, letting my head hang low and my eyelids slip closed.

Right now I refuse to feel anything other than the torrents of water cascading over my shoulders and down my back, praying beyond hope that on it's travels, it might just wash away some of the heartache too.

_At least it can't get any worse__ than this…_

* * *

><p>By the time nine o'clock in the evening rolls around, I find myself feeling infinitely more relaxed. I still haven't apologised to Renji for socking him right in the stomach, but fuck it, he's made no move to apologise to me either. I know there's that saying, "Be the bigger man", but I think that's total bullshit. You just know that was made up by some lily-livered douche that was so shit scared of the consequences of his actions he just had to apologise before he got a good beat down.<p>

Or so I've always believed.

Right now I'm relaxing on our one man recliner - or 'chillaxin'' as my teal haired lover would say. Honestly, he thinks he's so 'down with the kids' it borders on creepy. Old man should just stick to whatever prehistoric language he was raised with. Cave paintings, perhaps.

I chuckle a little at my own musings, though I'm not as satisfied as I would have been had Grimmjow actually been present to hear such a comment. No doubt he'd be bristling with rage and rambling on about how I'm a snot nosed brat.

"The fuck're ya sniggerin' at over there?" Renji asks from his seat on the three man couch. Rukia, who's cuddled up cutely in his lap - and _hooray!_ fully dressed - also gives me a distinct 'wtf' look.

Damn. I'd really rather not talk to the redheaded moron whilst the air is still so palpably thick with tension. Though it's kinda my own fault for laughing out loud at my own joke.

_Pfft. How lame is that?_

"None of your business is what," I answer petulantly from my position in the recliner. I know, I know, such a childish tactic. I'm surprised I'm not picking my nose and flicking my findings at him.

Renji simply rolls his eyes to focus back on the television screen. "Tch, whatever. _Weirdo_…"

Well, at least his reply is no more mature. I smirk at that, taking it as a small victory.

Rukia makes a show of sighing loudly and looking pointedly between us, silently demanding answers. But really, she's been seeing Renji for how long now? She should know beyond doubt that neither he nor I will ever letup so easily on our manly feud. Girls just cant understand the fragile complexity of the male ego, wherein no matter who's in the wrong, the first one to apologise will forever be slapped with a figurative vagina and ragged on until the next poor sap slips up and utters those two loathed words – _"I'm sorry."_

So yeah, she can huff and pout all she wants, but not only is she not going to see us 'kiss and make up', she'll also never find out the reason behind the mini-spat in the first place. No matter how angry and frustrated Renji may get about my predicament, I trust him enough to never go blabbing about it. Not even to Rukia. When it boils down to the really serious shit, he shows his true colours as a solidly dependable friend, and I can do nothing but respect him for it.

Twenty minutes of silence elapses, and I'm just starting to get comfortable. I'm back in my sweats with a clean, black tank on and my feet bare of even socks. I can feel my mind finally vegging out as I stare at the TV, watching but not really taking in the lame ass rom-com that's running – no doubt the midget's witchcraft had a hand in that one.

Oh wait – is that Jean-Claude Van Damme? Shit. When in the name of holy hell did they change the channel? Fuck, I really _did_ space out…

The unexpected, shrill buzz of the doorbell has all three of us collectively jumping out of our skin. Luckily Rukia's girly squeal was loud enough to cover my own emasculating sound of distress – or at least I thought so until I clock Renji's questioning glance from across the room.

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off before he can comment, but he beats me to it. "Ya expectin' company?"

_Oh, phew… Crisis averted._

I shake my head. "No. You?"

Renji frowns and clacks his tongue. "Why would I be askin' _you_ if I thought someone was lookin' for _me_?"

"Alright, _smartass_," I mutter, glancing over my shoulder in the direction of the door when the buzzing goes off again.

"Well? Isn't anyone going to get that?" Rukia pipes up.

"Ichi's closer," Renji states right off the bat, making me scowl.

"So what?" I gripe, tucking my knees up tighter underneath me. "Maybe if you sat a little less and moved around a little more, your fat ass wouldn't be so…fat."

Renji actually chuckled at that. "The hell? Dude, that was fuckin' awful."

"Shaddup, I heard it," I retort, unable to hold back my own smirk.

"Oookay…since you two seem to be having some sort of 'manly' moment, I guess I'll go answer the door," Rukia sighed as she wriggled out of Renji's hold.

"Ta babe," Renji grinned as she sauntered off.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it."

When the midget is adequately out of earshot, Renji surprises me by speaking up.

"Look, Ichigo…about earlier, I…well, y'know…"

He's scratching awkwardly at his long hair which has long since been swept up into a ridiculous ponytail. I say ridiculous not because I'm being petty, but because it scarily resembles the leaves of a pineapple. Seriously though, it's actually pretty damn funny.

Oh yeah, he's still talking…

"I _may_ have said some things that I didn't mean…well, not exactly. That is, I said some stuff that I _did_ mean, but it just didn't come out right, like, uhh, not the way I intended, y'know? Like it was–"

I hold my hand up in a halting gesture, desperately fighting off the riotous fit of laugher bubbling up in my chest. See what I mean? Damn baboon just _has_ to be the most illiterate being on the planet.

"Fuck, just stop Ren! You're gonna give yourself a bloody aneurysm if you keep abusing the few brain cells you have left like that." He glares at me and I return it with a chuckle. "I get it, okay? Just please stop talking before I start bleeding out my ears, I beg of you!"

"Fuck you, dude!" he barked, his words losing most of their edge due to the large grin splitting across his face.

I laugh at his obvious embarrassment, he scoffs at my juvenile ridiculing of said embarrassment, and, just like that, we're cool again. I must commend the man, managing to apologise without _actually_ apologising. _Jammy wee fucker_. Still, according to the sacred 'guy code', that's technically allowed, so I'll accept it.

Now that that ugly business has been patched up, I feel like a dead weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I sink back into the comfortable material of my seat with a small smile still playing on my lips. It's not until I hear quiet murmurings that I remember our guests at the door. Realising that I can hear three sets of footsteps returning in our direction, I move to peer over my shoulder, but before I get the chance my vision is robbed from me by a pair of hands wrapped in baby-soft skin.

"Guess who~" their owner sang in a pleasing peal.

I smile and cover the hands with my own. "You just gave yourself away Orihime. C'mon, after all these years you really think I can't recognise you from speech alone? Not to mention you're the only person who ever plays this game with me…or _at all_, actually."

"Aw, no fair~!" Orihime whined, dropping her hands to my shoulders and resting her chin on the top of my head. "That's cheating Ichigo! Next time you have to cover your ears!"

Mentally rolling my eyes at the prospect of 'next time' I swivel in my seat to face the newcomers. My ochre eyes fall upon two very familiar forms, and I give a lazy grin in recognition to the girls.

"S'up Tatsuki, Orihime," I greet. "What the hell are you guys doing here at this hour?"

Tatsuki Arisawa is one of my oldest friends. I've known her since I was old enough to be punched in the face, which was at the tender age of six when I joined the same dojo she was attending. She's the same age as me, roughly 5'1" in height and has a pretty lean, muscular figure for a girl. Her spiky, charcoal hair and hard, earthy brown eyes accentuate her boyish features. Not that she's not pretty, she's just got a, uh, rather masculine façade surrounding her. Whatever, she makes it work.

Orihime Inoue, a sinfully beautiful soul with flowing, burnt sienna hair and dazzling, smoky grey eyes wrapped in a curvaceous body – complete with epic bust – I've known since I was a junior. She's ditsy and scatterbrained like no one I've ever met, but she has a good heart, one as big as her abundant chest, and is impossible to dislike. She's Tatsuki's long-term girlfriend. Even a gay guy like me can admit that they make a hot couple, one that has me seething with jealousy. I mean, how come they can be so content and perfect together, when I struggle to even _see_ the object of my own desire?

Ugh, it's so fucking unfair. Damn happy lesbians…

Orihime parted her pouty lips to answer my question, probably with something chipper and overly polite, but she didn't get any further than her initial inhale. Why, you ask? Well, that's simple really. _Tatsuki_. That's why.

Before I could blink, or even contemplate making a mad bid for safety, the psycho tomboy had me in a crushing headlock. I'm all too aware that, even given her small stature, the girl could pop my head off like she would her favourite soda, and hence I start to panic somewhat.

"Tatsuki, the hell!" I yelp, my voice garbled as the words struggle to bypass the deathgrip her forearm has around my throat.

Just when I think my continual squirming has created enough room to slip out of her hold, the fucking karate-nut puts me in a half nelson.

Okay, now I'm fucked.

"I should be asking you that, ya punk!" she growls, applying more pressure until I whimper. "We don't see you all week, and that's how you decide to greet us? I should wring your scrawny neck!"

_Um, like you aren't already…_

I think about voicing said opinion out loud, and irritably, but again Tatsuki beats me to the punch – almost literally. She applies more pressure, and I just know the shrimpy sadist won't be happy until I submit under her ironclad will. If it were anybody else, I wouldn't hesitate to fight back, but I wouldn't dare take on Tatsuki. It's got nothing to do with the fact that she's a girl, and everything to do with the fact that she's mentally fucking deranged. And as strong as an ox on fucking steroids to boot.

I don't fight because I can't win. As much as it pains me to admit it, it's as simple as that.

"Fuck, _fine!_ I'm sorry!" is my gruff concession, and I'm immediately granted the ability to breathe like a normal human being again. Sure she chuckles and ruffles my hair like she's fucking Queen of the world, but shit, I'm not going to say anything.

Renji and Rukia are also chuckling. Well Rukia is at any rate, Renji's more pissing himself with laughter, slapping his thigh and panting through his riotous guffaws that I'm "such a pussy for lettin' a chick get the drop on me". _Fucker_. I'd like to see him come over here and antagonise the fiery raven head and leave with his balls in tact. Bastard would be laughing out the other side of his face then.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Rukia asks with a cute, all too innocent smile.

_Oh yeah, way to learn from my misfortune and cover your own ass, you devious bitch._

"Huh? Oh! We're here to kidnap Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime declared happily, pumping her fist in the air for added pep.

I blinked, my mouth hanging agape in a way I can only assume makes me appear rather stupid. "Say what now?"

Tatsuki rolled her earthy eyes. "Come on, you heard the girl! Move your ass, Ichigo!" She kicked the back of my chair, just to get her point across in the only way Tatsuki knows how – physically. "Oh, and wear somethin' nice. We're going to the club."

I don't need to ask which club is 'the club'. She's talking about _Vizards_, the same club that we not only frequent like every weekend, but also the one I work at part-time. Poor, lowly student, remember? I've got rent to pay. It's at this point my brain actually registers what the duo are wearing. Both are dressed up to the nines; Orihime in a stunning, short hemline red dress, and Tatsuki in white booty shorts and a black, off shoulder billowy top.

"Eh?" comes Renji's sub-intelligent response to the news. "But it's _Monday_. We were all there just two days ago, not to mention we've all got classes tomorrow."

"He's right, Tats." Wow, I just agreed with Renji. Mark it in your calendar people, 'cause that's history right there. "And besides, I don't really feel like going out tonight."

Tatsuki clucked her tongue and crossed her arms over her moderate chest. "That's funny, I don't believe I asked your permission. Now hurry up and get ready!"

"I don't want to!" I cry petulantly, gripping onto the arms of the recliner because I know she'll drag me if she has to.

"Aw, but you _have_ to come Ichigo!" Orihime simpered, turning smouldering, doe eyes on me. "If you don't, then how will you ever get your surprise?"

I'm pretty sure she doesn't realise it, given her excessively courteous manner, but there's very little I can refuse Orihime. Especially when she gives me that look. You know the one, where you can picture their face as a teary eyed puppy. I always have been a sucker for a damsel in distress. As such I was dangerously close to caving as it was, just to appease the orangette beauty and see a smile lighting up her pretty features again, but I must say, the mention of this 'surprise' is pulling at my sense of intrigue much harder than Orihime is at my sense of chivalry. I find myself quirking a curious brow.

"Surprise? Hn… What is it?"

This earns me a sharp smack upside the head. I'm sure you can all figure out from whom said blow was dealt.

"Idiot. If she told ya that, it wouldn't be a surprise!" Tatsuki scoffed, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. "I won't tell you again – go and get changed! Hime's in charge of pickin' out your outfit, so chop-chop!"

I feel my brows furrowing as crippling embarrassment over Orihime seeing vast amounts of my naked body wages war with offence over the notion that the tomboy/drill sergeant doesn't trust me enough to pick out something decent on my own. One of these days I'll punch her. Right in the fucking ovaries.

Maybe when she's on her deathbed…

Before I can utter a word of protest to either one of my raging emotions, Orihime giggles and grasps me by the hand, hauling me to my feet. As she skips off to my room, dragging my reluctant corpse behind her bouncy movements, I hear Tatsuki informing the other two hesitant occupants that their presence is also 'required'. Read as: "You're coming, _or else_."

Quietly sniggering to myself as I hear Renji grumble and complain – followed swiftly by a yelp of pain that makes me laugh out loud – I can't help but speculate at what my surprise could be…

_Hm, I wonder if it's better than Grimmjow's?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah, so chapter 3. Apologies for the fact that nothing really happened in this instalment, but, as a beautifully talented artist and I were discussing, there is always a calm before the storm. Hopefully this gave you all a little peek into the psyche of our favourite Strawberry, and I can only hope ya'll weren't too disappointed with the lack of, um, action this chapter had to offer.**

**The drama will ensue soon enough, but for now I'm afraid this is your lot. Sorry!**

**Chapter four is already well under way, and we will get a glimpse of our yummy blunette's inner workings and thoughts of being a, eep, daddy! So far it's been fun to write, so hopefully it shant take too much longer...**

**I sincerely hope ya'll enjoyed, and ciao fer now**

**Toringtino~**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own the situation, and the rights to my own insanity, but that's it. The Strawberry and Blue Kitty are not mine - and yes, I do lament the fact.**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

I wake to a warm, foreign pressure on my chest. It's not exactly heavy, but it's enough to be a nuisance. I was having a rather pleasant dream, one where the world was void of all colour, except for one…orange. And not just any old dull and boring orange, oh no. It just had to be luminous, sunshiny, bright as a fucking traffic cone orange. It just had to be Kurosaki orange.

A low rumble in my chest is granted for the rather rude inconvenience of waking up before I had intended to, and it takes all of my wakening strength just to crack an eye open. I'm not much of a morning person, in case you were wondering. In fact, before my first dose of caffeine, I'm not much of a person at all.

Once I achieve my task of pealing my heavy eyelids open, my bleary vision is immediately captured by a mess of reddish brown fur and luminous yellow eyes. The fur mews. I growl.

"Piss off, Kira," I groan, my voice breaking due to disuse. The damn thing just stares at me, like it doesn't know what the fuck I'm talking about. But I know better, I can see straight through its little act of 'naivety'.

Kira is Tia's cat. She still fawns and coos all over him like he's a goddamn kitten, but he's not. He's a manipulative little bastard, not to mention well over eighteen months old now. Tia, and I quote, "saved him from the very jaws of death" when he was no more than a quivering ball of static fluff the size of a fucking Granny Smith apple. Seems he was abandoned in a cardboard box left beside some grimy dumpster out the back of a small café. He _just_ _happened_ to mew loud enough as Tia _just_ _happened_ to be strolling by, and the rest, as they say, is clichéd fucking history.

When I had protested to his existence – or more specifically, his existence in _my_ goddamn house – she had told me that she would be the one to take good care of him, that I would never even know that he was there.

Che,_ right._

For whatever ungodly reason, since day fucking _one_, the damn pest has become my shadow's constant companion. He follows me everywhere. Whether it's accompanying me in getting my morning coffee, or sprawling all over my desk when I'm holed away in my office trying to get some work done, I just know that he's in the immediate vicinity somewhere. Even the bathroom isn't off limits it would seem. I can't tell just how unnerving it is to see two glowing yellow eyes – _demon_ eyes – watching you through the thick fog when you're in the shower. Creeps me the fuck out.

Tia tells me off when I'm cruel towards him, but fuck it. I never wanted a goddamn pet in the first place. If, for whatever weird and wonderful reason, I'm ever granted a superpower, it's going to be the ability to make things self-combust via a simple glare. Kira had better watch his back on that day, 'cause when I find him, it's _bye-bye kitty_.

I guess as far as animals go, Kira's not the _absolute_ worst. I mean, apart from the scratched up furniture, the use of my lap as a fucking throw pillow and the infernal _purring_, the furball sleeps on average twenty freaking hours a day – wherever I happen to be, of course – and he tends to greet me with a simple flick of the ears and quiet mewl. Could be worse, I suppose. He could be a mangy mutt who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to clean his junk with his own tongue, and then use the same vile instrument to lick my face. Yeah, fuck _right_ off. If I ever want something pawing all over me and covering me in their saliva, I'll just call Kurosaki.

I know what you're thinking, for something I supposedly 'hate', I sure have rambled on about him. What can I say? Admittedly, I'm very passionate about it.

Hating the little fucker I mean, not Kira himself.

Right now he's just staring at me, and I'm not too sure on how to proceed. Don't get me wrong, just because I said he tends to follow me around and uses my various extremities as temporary resting posts, that does _not_ mean he actually _likes_ me. Fuck no. I just know that if I make any sudden movements, or try to physically extract him from my person, he _will_ attack me. Probably go straight for my jugular. _Again_.

Just as I'm thinking that I could probably manoeuvre my pillow from under my head without rousing too much suspicion – my hands being under there already – and use it as some sort of battering instrument, Kira sees fit to get up and piss off on his own. But not before doing that stupid stretchy thing that cats do, and piercing those needle-like claws straight into my chest. _Fucker_. I just know he does it on purpose.

He promptly bolts off when I let my displeasure at the action known with a nice string of elaborate cursing, hurling my pillow after his hastily retreating form. If later, when I drink my morning coffee, liquid starts pouring out of tiny holes in my chest, I swear I'm using him as firewood this winter. Fuck what Tia says.

"Grimmjow, please don't yell at Light-kun," comes a sleep induced murmur from beside me. "He doesn't like it."

I snort and roll my eyes. "He started it. He's lucky I don't have 'im fixed, just to be cruel."

Tia named the damn moggy after a popular anime series she fell in love with. Can't remember the name, and nor am I going to try. Apparently the colour of his fur reminds her of the main antagonist or some shit, and is the reason she sometimes refers to the furball as _Light-kun_. I try to tell her that Kira doesn't understand that it's an 'affectionate' nickname, that he doesn't grasp the concept of nickname _whatsoever_ and won't ever answer to anything other than his given name. If he wants to acknowledge you at all, that is. He's a cat for fuck's sake. Who does he need? Nobody, that's who.

_Lucky bastard._

As I roll over to spoon against Tia's back, I must admit that I'm somewhat ignorant to everything. That is, everything that I should probably be freaking out about right now.

Oi, I'm only just awake, give me a goddamn second.

Slowly but surely, everything starts to register and click into place. Fucking Kurosaki would have a field day if he knew, but I swear the older I get, the harder it becomes to dust away the cognitive cobwebs in the mornings. When I was the brat's age, I could simply snap my eyes open, roll out of bed and get on with my day. But that doesn't apply so much anymore. These days I need a good ten minutes to regulate my breathing through tar-clogged lungs and do some serious soul searching just to locate the will to get up.

Dramatic, yes, but entirely true.

Taking a mental catalogue, I realise a lot of things. Warmth registers first. Not just from my own body, but from the slender form pressed up against my chest and midriff. It's nice and familiar, and hence not entirely unpleasant. Next is the smell. I can smell vanilla from the extracts in Tia's favourite shampoo, and the faint, lingering floral scent of her perfume as I nestle my face into the smooth skin on her neck. I can smell my own musk too, but it's almost _too_ strong. It's at this point that I remember, with astounding clarity, that we had sex last night.

I sigh quietly to myself at the thought, when all I really want to do is yell and curse until I pass out from oxygen deprivation. I cannot fucking win. _Ever_. When I'm with that damn Kurosaki brat, I feel remorse for wronging my wife. Come on, of course I fucking do. As much as I'm sure others would strongly debate the fact, I do have _some_ standards, some sense of moral decency. I guess I can thank my mother for that much.

But by the same token, when I'm with Tia, I can't help but think of Kuro-fucking-saki. I feel so goddamn guilty even _kissing_ my wife because all my jacked up brain can conjure up is images of _him_. Of that stupid scowl, lean body, and those beautiful fucking eyes. Orange and ochre are permanently seared into the backs of my eyelids, so that when I sleep, _when I blink_, they're all I ever see – and it drives me _fucking nuts_.

Much like right now, actually.

Letting a small, frustrated groan slip past bared teeth, I work on fixing the problem. Before I know it I'm 'distracting' myself by nipping and sucking on the nape of Tia's neck, my right hand tracing down her narrow ribcage to settle on a curvy hip. Fuck it all, I'm already rock hard just from _thinking_ about the bloody kid, and, seeing how he's not around to rectify the problem, I'll take the next best thing – my wife.

You know, ignorance really is bliss. I never truly appreciated such a statement until the precise moment my hand snaked under Tia's cotton pyjama vest and ghosted over the soft expanse of her stomach. She was giving off breathy little moans, her sultry, honeyed voice egging me on, but by the time my fingertips reached her navel, I just knew something was…well, _off_.

Baring in mind that I've already mentioned the fact that I'm a little _slow_ in the mornings, I simply stilled my hand and frowned at the abnormality. I opened my mouth to inquire about it, only to get my answer in the form of Tia suddenly wrenching herself from my hold and jumping from the bed like someone had just fed ten thousand volts through the mattress.

My confusion increased dramatically – _shut up_ – after such an abrupt reaction, and it's not until the unmistakable sound of retching filtered through from the en-suite bathroom that my brain finally kicks into gear. And with a colossal fucking _bang_, too.

Ah yes, that's right. Tia's pregnant.

Preggers.

Up the duff.

Bun in the oven.

Knocked the fuck up.

Ah hell. It doesn't matter what way you want to look at it, she's fucking _pregnant_. With _my_ fucking kid. …_Shit._

What in the name of holy good fuck do I do now? Better yet, how in the hell did this happen in the first place? Tia's supposed to be on the Pill for Christ's sake! Che, it _would_ be my fucking luck that one of the most failsafe methods of contraception invented decided to screw me over.

Heh. Fuck you too, life. Fuck you too…

Rolling over onto my back, I let a long sigh escape through my nose, and then surprise myself by laughing. It's not full-blown guffawing or anything, but a deep, throaty chuckle. I mean really, what else can I do? The whole situation is so absurd, I think my brain's gone into permanent meltdown. But don't go worrying about my mental stability just yet, I reckon it's about time I had my midlife crisis anyway.

More gagging and spluttering reaches my ears, and I can't help but wince.

Shit. Tia's _really_ pregnant…and I'm really screwed. This isn't exactly what I had had planned for my life. It's not that I've never thought about being a father, but as of late I guess the reality of such a thing never honestly occurred to me. I consider myself to be with the Kurosaki kid as much as I do my wife, as fucked up as that is, and so the notion of children was never an issue. Until now.

Deciding that I should probably go to my wife's aid, I throw the covers back and somewhat reluctantly drag myself out of bed. I'm not reluctant because I don't _want_ to help, it's just because, well…as soon as I get involved, it's suddenly going to be _real_. The kind of real that forces you not only to acknowledge its existence, but slaps you in the face and demands you do something about it – and to be perfectly honest, I don't know if I'm up to that quite yet.

Through sheer willpower alone, I force myself across the room and to the door of the bathroom. I lift my hand to knock, and for a good twenty seconds I cannot get it to move. It's just frozen there, trembling slightly as I listen to the sound of Tia's now obvious morning sickness, a cold sweat breaking out on my brow as icy shivers run down my spine.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm my rattled nerves, but all that serves to do is give me a flash of those accursed colours, the colours that depict my life so completely – or at least, they did…

Ah, shit. _N__o_.

_Fuck no_ a million times over. I absolutely _refuse_ to bring him into the equation right now. I can't even recognise the boy's _being_ at the moment. I just fucking _can't_. I'm already in deep shit as it is, trying to sort through my own damn emotions, without the added complication of dragging him into the picture too. Even thinking about him is churning my stomach so violently that I might be forced to join Tia in there soon enough. Not to mention the thought of what I'm going to tell him.

I have to be careful, this isn't the kind of thing I can just come right out and say. I'm going to need time to prepare, maybe lay some groundwork before I–argh, fuck it. I can't do this. _I cannot fucking do this! _This is so fucking messed up I wouldn't be surprised if I looked out the window right now to find the apocalypse had started. What the hell do I do? Is there even a fucking answer to that question? Motherfucking ass-cunt! I have never once, in my whole fucking life, felt as lost and as utterly helpless as I do right now. And, god help me, I see no way out. All the riches in the world couldn't buy my way out of this nightmare, nor could all the collective genius minds in the history of mankind come up with some sort of formula for a solution.

This whole damn mess is my own fucking fault, and I'm completely on my own…

…

Okay, _hold the fuckin' phone right there_. Since when am I afraid of _anything?_ Ha! I'm Grimmjow fucking Jaegerjaques! I don't know the meaning of the word fear. Shit, I'm the one who beat my way through my education, surpassing everyone's expectations when by all rights I should have been some teenage delinquent. I'm the one who went on to graduate with a Masters in Business Management, who waltzed into my father's company as the sixth heir and turned the whole damn place on its head. So what if things are a little crazy at the moment? There's not a damn obstacle in the free world that I can't overcome or, if needs be, obliterate.

_I ain't afraid of jack shit._

With my repaired resolve now steadfast, I crack the bathroom door open and poke my head in to find Tia hugging the bowl of the toilet like it's her new best friend. The sight pulls rather violently at my newfound determination, but I beat it back. I can deal with all that emotional shit later. If I take it just one thing at a time, then both my sanity and I can get through the day in one piece.

I hope.

"Yo, babe?" I ask, eyeing Tia's back as it rises and falls in quick succession. "Y'alright?"

Tia gives a low grunt in response, the sound echoing lightly in its porcelain surroundings. I quirk a brow. How very un-Tia like.

"What the hell do you think, Grimm?" she enquires at last, tilting her head to lock dulled harlequin eyes on me.

Now Tia tends to be the polar opposite of me in regards to mornings. Where I'm happy enough to keep the curtains tightly drawn and pass away the hours in sweet oblivion until the afternoon breaks – or my bladder threatens to implode, either/or – Tia will happily rouse at the crack of fucking dawn, starting her day with a song in her heart and a skip in her step. Sometimes I'm surprised she doesn't have a whole barnyard full of forest animals trotting along behind her, helping her to clean up and, I don't know, bake bread or whatever.

Point is, where she usually takes to the early hours like a duck to water, she doesn't seem to be fairing so well on this particular morning. Poor woman, with dark circles looming under those usually shimmering eyes and her mocha skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, she looks like she could do with another eight hours under the covers. Possibly more.

But fuck if I'm going to tell her that. I like my testicles where they are, thanks.

"Yeah, stupid question," I reply rather awkwardly, scratching at the back of my head whilst I try to come up with something constructive to say. Damn it, since when was conversation so difficult? "Uhh…is there anythin' I can get for ya?"

"Tea," she groaned, hugging the bowl tighter. "Peppermint."

I nod once, repeating the order as I ducked back out the door. I was just in the process of closing it after me when I stopped in my tracks, a small frown creasing my brow. I popped my head back through.

"Wait, _tea?_" I query, my confusion evident in that one word alone. "Since when do you drink tea?"

It's a perfectly legitimate question. For as long as I've known the woman, which is just over four years now, I have never _once_ seen her drink tea, of any brand or flavour. She's a total caffeine whore, just like me. As far as I'm aware, there isn't even a bag of the stuff in the house.

Tia swivelled enough for me to see her roll her eyes. "Since I found out it settles my stomach. Obviously I can't drink too much of it, but in moderation it's fine. To be honest, I probably won't touch it again after the morning sickness passes."

"Ah," I say, agreeing like we're now on the same page, even though I'm still at a bit of a loss. "So, tea's bad during pregnancy huh? Never knew that."

Tia chuckled at that, shaking her head in clear exasperation. "No, not tea, Grimm. Caffeine. Caffeine's bad."

My sadistic side comes out at the news and I smirk, feigning empathy as I clack my tongue. "Aw, no more Starbucks Italian blend for poor, wee Bels. Sucks for you."

"You think so?" she replies with a small, devious grin of her own. "Well, you're the one who's going to have to put up with me without my regular shots of espresso and breakfast blends. So, in reality, sucks for _you_, sweetie."

I frown, genuinely troubled by the realisation. "Hn. Touché."

Tia gives me a dazzling smile of triumph, in spite of her otherwise dishevelled appearance, before waving me away. "Now hurry up and go already. You really don't want to be around for the rest of this."

Agreeing wholeheartedly, but without saying as much out loud, I retreat just in time to miss the next bout of cringe-worthy hurling, and, donning my navy blue dressing gown off the back of the bedroom door, I make my way downstairs.

Upon entering the kitchen I curse for two reasons; one, the marble-effect tiles on the floor are fucking _cold_ against my bare feet, and two, Kira's sitting up on the island in the centre of the room, staring at me with those creepy eyes like he knew I was going to walk through the door at the precise moment that I did.

"When I said 'piss off', I meant out of the house completely," I elaborated to the damn pest, flipping him off as I strolled by on my way to the far counter where the kettle was sitting. I know it doesn't make much sense to flip an animal the bird, but I like to think that he knows what it means. I mean, I do it often enough, and cats are supposed to be at least somewhat intelligent – right?

As I fill the kettle with water, I blatantly ignore and reject every single thought that tries to force its way into my head. I don't care what it's about – Tia, pregnancy, work, the brat – it doesn't matter. Like I said, one thing at a time, and right now I'm making tea, so everything else can just take a fucking hike already.

I flip the kettle on to boil, leaving it to do its thing as I reach out automatically to the windowsill on my right, lifting the packet of smokes and lighter I left there. It's not just in here, I leave a pack of cigarettes in every prime location in the house; in the kitchen so that I can kick-start my nicotine addiction at the same time as my caffeine one, in my office because if I didn't have something to soothe my frazzled nerves I'd need…well, _a new fucking office_, and, of course, in the bedroom, because there's nothing quite like a satisfying smoke after a satisfying fuck.

I light up rather mechanically, throwing the box and lighter back on the sill behind me as I lean back against the countertop. I'm still battling furiously to keep my mind blank, chewing irritably on the butt of my cigarette and staring off into a vast nothingness, when I hear the kettle _clack_, signalling that it's finished doing as I commanded.

Chuckling cruelly when I notice Kira baulking at the noise – he never gets used to it, and I never _don't_ find it funny – I go about making Tia and myself our regular cups of Joe, only to catch myself on. Give me a break, I'm nearly thirty, I like a certain amount of routine in my day. Finding the box of peppermint teabags in the cupboard above the kettle, I make the amendment, wondering how on earth something that smells so incredibly unappealing could possibly help to settle anything, let alone something as sensitive as someone's stomach. Raising my own cup to my lips to take a tentative sip of the scalding, rich brown liquid, I shrug. It's not like I'm going to be drinking the shit, so it can smell any way it damn well pleases.

Catching a flash of blonde in my peripheral, I tilt my head to the left in time to see a much more 'together' Tia waltz into the room. Her hair is still tousled, and her eyes still tired, but that sickly sheen from before is starting to look like more of a soft, flattering glow. And _damn_ if it doesn't look radiant on her.

I smile, thinking that I might just tell her my previous thought, but she promptly steals all words from my repertoire when she casually saunters over, placing a loving kiss on my cheek at the same time she callously plucks the cigarette from my mouth. I scowl, watching as she wrinkles her nose in disgust and throws the cancer stick in the sink, a soft sizzle indicating the innocent items quick demise.

"The hell, Bels?" I grouse tetchily, trying my best to ignore the fact that I'd only taken about five pulls of the damn thing.

Tia sighs, patting my chest in a patronising manner that has me instantly clenching my jaw. I hate condescending shit like that.

"Let's pretend for a moment that your ego isn't the only thing stored in that big head of yours," she teased, tapping my forehead for better emphasis. "C'mon, Grimm. I'm _pregnant_, remember? You can't honestly think that it's a good idea to smoke around me."

I grumble under my breath. I know that she's right, _obviously_, but I'm completely unwilling to acknowledge such a thing after the merciless massacre of my first smoke of the day. My stubborn streak will never fail me.

In the end I concede with a curt nod and an inarticulate grunt.

"See now, I knew you had a brain up there!" she smirked, moving to pick up her own mug. "In fact, now that we're on the subject, I think it would be best if you didn't smoke in the house at all anymore."

I paused in lifting my coffee to my lips, my frown back in full force. "Say what? You can't be serious."

"Oh calm down, Grimmjow. It's not like I'm asking you to give up altogether or anything, I just think it'd be for the best if you didn't toxify the air your own baby is going to be breathing, both inside _and_ outside the womb." She lightly stroked her swollen stomach, giving me a pointed look that didn't leave much room for debate. "Wouldn't you agree?"

I thought about disputing it, about pointing out that as long as I was in another room, or even sitting at an open window, then there wouldn't be any problem, but I couldn't possibly argue with that look. I'm sure there are men all over the world who know exactly what look I'm talking about, it's the one that says 'go right on ahead and disagree with me, and I'll simply bring back any point you have to something you couldn't ever hope to understand to the extent that I can'. It's a look that tells me that this conversation is over before I've even opened my mouth. If I even dared to try and debate my point, I just know that I'll be made out to seem like I don't care about the welfare of my own kid. Being a woman, Tia was genetically programmed to win the vast majority of our arguments as it was, but a _pregnant_ woman? Fuck, how could I ever hope to compete with _that?_

Resigning myself to the fact that I'm unlikely to succeed in any disagreement for the next few years of my life, I give the scheming she-witch a weary smile and nod. "Yeah, fine. I guess that's a…valid point."

"Thank you, honey, you're being very reasonable," she beamed, taking her victory like a champ and delivering a soft kiss to my lips. When she drew back she had her eyes closed, her blonde lashes fanning across her cheeks. "Mm, that smells delicious."

Assuming she's talking about her tea, I shrug. "I didn't know how you take it, so I just made it the same way ya like your coffee."

"Actually, I was talking about _your_ coffee, but thank you." She took a careful sip of her own drink, humming pleasantly. "It's perfect."

"What can I say? Ya married an all-round genius."

Tia scoffed, playfully batting my shoulder as she leaned against the island so that she was facing me. "So I was thinking, we should probably sit down and discuss a game plan."

I arch a brow, taking a long pull of my coffee to make up for the pitiful amount of nicotine surging through my system. "Game plan?"

"Sometimes I forget how painfully useless you are before mid-afternoon," Tia replied, an eye roll implied in her tone of voice. "Yes, a game plan. For instance, where we're going to put the nursery, what kind of birth I'm going to have, do we want to know the sex, if we're telling people yet, etcetera. There's a lot to consider, Grimmjow. We're already a good three months in, and we haven't even got the basics covered yet."

My mind officially shut down at the word 'nursery'. See what I mean about it suddenly being real? Fuck my life.

"Shit Bels, can ya slow down for a sec?" I can't even begin to contemplate half of the things she just said, let alone the mile-long list of other shit I just know she's waiting to spring on me next. At her look of puzzlement, I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Look, you just said so yourself, I'm not exactly 'up to speed' before twelve in the afternoon. Fuck, I haven't even had a full smoke yet! Can't we just…discuss all of this later?"

I don't specify a time, because I really have no idea when I'll be able to sit down and talk about baby stuff without feeling like I'm going to slip into a stress induced coma. Christ, I need to sit down and have a long chat with _myself_ before I can make any intelligent contributions about where a nursery should go or what colour we should fucking paint it.

"Sure, Grimm baby." Tia's smiling warmly at me, her harlequin eyes full of understanding and adoration, two things any man would be happy to see. Guilt and indecision spring to life in me through that look though, and it makes me feel decidedly nauseous. "I know I kind of sprung all of this on you last night, so I'm sorry if it feels like I'm rushing you. I mean, I've had weeks to get used to the idea, and while you've been away I've had plenty of time to think and plan and celebrate."

She set her mug down on the island and sashayed over to me. Her slim fingers weaved their way through my hair, gently massaging as she pulled my head down to meet her full lips. Slipping an arm around her slender waist, I can feel the slight baby bump housing my child pressing into my abdomen, making my heart soar and splinter simultaneously. The contradictory feeling is making my head whirl.

"Take as much time as you need," Tia murmured softly when we parted, still smiling sweetly.

I set my jaw and scrunched my eyes closed, pulling her close so that she couldn't see the pained expression on my face. Not trusting myself to say anything further, I pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and quickly left the room. I didn't bother looking back, knowing full well that I didn't deserve the look of love and devotion that would undoubtedly be shining at full beam on Tia's beautiful features.

The worst part is knowing that Tia isn't even _half_ of my problems. Shit.

_What the fuck do I __do with Kurosaki?_

* * *

><p>For the next six hours or so, I immerse myself in work. Sure it's a pretty spineless way to handle things, by which I mean purposefully <em>not<em> handling them, but fuck it, if it means that I don't have to think about my wife, or babies, or fucking orange haired temptations, then that's absolutely fine by me.

I'm actually feeling a little better. I got to holler at some retarded, punk ass kid who thought he was too 'rockstar' to hold up on his end of our contract and finish his tour, _and_ I got to fire two employees. One for unbelievable incompetence, and the other because…well, because I was in a shitty mood and I never really liked the guy in the first place. Ah, the perks of being top dog.

I can hear Kira purring away somewhere in the confines of the room, but hell if I can see the little bastard. He's damn lucky he's such an expert at hiding because, if he had been within arms reach even an hour ago, I would've snapped his neck like a fucking toothpick without a second's hesitation, used him like a furry stress ball without even batting an eyelid. Now _that_ would have made my day.

At this precise moment, I find myself staring blankly at my mobile for what had to have been about the fiftieth time in the last thirty minutes. With all of the commotion of sacking shit-for-brains workers and dealing with vexing band members now out of the way, the silence is eating away at my rapidly dwindling patience. Inactivity is making my fingers itch to do _something_ - and you know who just happens to be particularly talented at scratching relentless itches? That's right, _Kurosaki_.

I just know that if everything wasn't quite as royally fucked up as it just so happens to be, I would have made my excuses to Tia _hours_ ago and already be balls deep in my Berry's velvety heat. Fuck, the thought of that taut, peachy skin, of long, lean legs wrapped around my waist and flashing ochre eyes has my cock quickly springing to life. What an excellent distraction the boy would be, all of those beautiful, needy moans and heated, sinful touches would fog up my overactive mind in a heartbeat. God, I'd fuck him so hard he'd _scream_…

Shaking my head hard in the hopes of clearing it like one of those magic 8 balls, I decide that a quick break is in order. You know, before I go and do something stupid - like actually _calling_ the kid. I made for the kitchen, not entirely surprised to find Tia still in there, happily munching away on a punnet of green grapes and reading what I could only presume was the latest gossip in the tabloid newspaper. I scoffed. I read the paper for match scores and music reviews, but Tia? She loves all that pop culture shit. If anyone even remotely famous so much as hiccups, she seems to know all about it.

"So, who's done what now?" I ask as I fix myself my third cup of coffee.

I should make myself perfectly clear – I'm not in the least bit interested in the answer, and she knows that, but its easy conversation. It's like when she asks me how work went on any given day. She doesn't _actually_ care, we just humour each other.

"Hm?" she hums distractedly, before acknowledging that I did in fact ask a question. "Oh, I dunno. I'm just checking out the latest. Seems that _some_ people have got it into their heads that clogs are making a comeback. Pfft."

This is where I should probably explain that Tia is in fact a fashion designer, so that last remark of hers wasn't her being a critical bitch, but a critical professional. Or at least that's what she always tells me.

Tia designs her own brand of 'très chic' clothing called Cascada, which in her native tongue – that being Spanish – means _waterfall_. I always thought it was a strange name for a clothing line, but whatever, what the hell do I know? Her father, one Adriano Harribel, is the one who set her up with all the financial aid and guidance she could ever ask for, and damn if Tia didn't do her Pops proud, returning his initial investment and then some when she went out and took the fashion world by storm.

It's actually through Adriano that I even met my wife. He himself, much like me, has little to no interest in fashion, only doing what he did to support his one and only child. No, Adriano owns a very popular record label called Tiburón. Now _shark_ is a good name for a company. It's strong and ferocious, just like Pantera. We met five years ago at the conference that announced me the official successor to my own father, on the very day I became the new owner of Pantera Inc. He told me that I had a ton of potential, and that, for the right price, he would make sure Pantera got her hands into the global market, that he would make her a worldwide success. Who the fuck was I to say no to such an offer? I was young, in the prime of my life and oh so very ambitious – I wanted it _all_.

The price he mentioned turned out to be Tia. He wanted his only daughter married and happy, settled down. I wanted power, influence and control.

I agreed almost instantly.

So you see, Tia's not just my wife – and now expectant mother of my firstborn child – she's also a contract of sorts. I told you it was far too complicated for such a quick and simple fix, didn't I?

With a fresh cup of coffee now securely within my grasp, I'm just about to head out back for a much needed cigarette when Tia's shocked exclaim of "Oh my god! No way!" peaks my interest enough to halt my actions.

"What's up?" I ask, hoping that it's something at least halfway interesting, and not another celebrity faux pas of wearing socks with sandals.

"I don't believe it!" she gasps, pulling the paper closer to her face like it might help her to better decipher whatever scandal it is that's got her so excited. "Ugh, no fair! Why's it always the good looking ones?"

"The good looking ones that what?" I ask a little louder, none too happy about being ignored.

Tia pouts, looking adorably dejected as she pillows her chin in her palm and pops another grape into her mouth. "That are gay, of course," she replies wistfully, her finger tapping at the paper in front of her even though I can't see the fucking thing. "You wouldn't know him, but he's a famous model. He actually used to live here in Karakura, but he was scouted in his last year of high school and has spent the past three years making quite the name for himself over in America. I've tried so many times to get him for a fashion show or two, but his agency clings onto him like a freaking limpet! Not that I blame them, he's so incredibly gorgeous!"

Her fan-girl type whine has me rolling my eyes and chuckling at the same time. "So, what, he was caught shaggin' one of his co-workers or somethin'?"

"Heavens no – I wish!" I furrow my brows at that, wondering if I shouldn't be concerned by such a reaction. Hn, maybe it would be easier to tell her about Kurosaki than I originally thought… "It seems that he's back in town for a while – and had a rather messy welcome home party last night if some of these pictures are anything to go by. He was snapped kissing some blushing boy." She tilted her head as she looked at the picture in question again, her nose scrunching as she contemplated. "It's not like it's a full-on snog or anything, but it definitely doesn't look _innocent_ either. The boy's quite the looker too; beautiful bone structure, fit body, long legs, striking eyes… Hmm. I wonder if he's a model as well?"

I take that as my cue to leave, before she goes into 'investigator mode' and starts making copious amounts of calls to some overly annoying underlings – trust me, no man alive could bear witness to the profane amount chatter and gushing Tia and her friends can accomplish in a single phone call and escape with his masculinity still intact.

I already have my hand on the door handle, sweet freedom and intoxicating nicotine mere milliseconds away, when a quiet, personal musing from Tia causes my head to whip in her direction, my eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"What did you just say?"

"Huh?" Tia glances up, blinking like she's surprised to find I'm still standing there. "Eh, I was just wondering if that was the boy's natural hair colour. I mean, I know yours is natural and all…but bright _orange?_ I highly doubt it. I'd be willing to bet he bleaches it."

I cross the distance between us in about three strides, slamming my mug down on the tabletop and snatching up the newspaper like it holds the secret to the meaning of life within its printed text. My heart slams painfully against my ribs and I have to fight tooth and nail not to growl out loud. _What. The. Fuck?_

"What do you think, Grimm?" Tia asks, peeking at the picture again over my arm. "Do you think it's natural?"

Natural? _Natural?_ No I do not think it's fucking _natural_ to be staring at a blown-up picture of someone touching _my_ fucking Berry! Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Didn't his mother ever teach him that handling property that isn't your own is just asking for fucking trouble? The little shit! He has his dirty fucking mouth on _my_ fucking Kurosaki, pressing against lips that I know are rose petal soft, that plump up so nice when you nip and suck on them…

And just like that, the last of my waning tolerance for this fuckery of a day shatters into a million microscopic pieces. _That's it_. Fucker's gonna pay big time. Whether I'm referring to the brat or his lip-locking, possession fondling _'companion'_, I haven't quite decided yet.

"Oi, Bels," I grit out, trying and - in all likelihood given this new turn in events - probably _failing_ to keep my voice steady and my breathing level. "What did you say this guys name was?"

Nobody - and I mean _absolutely no-fucking-body_ - gets away with touching my Strawberry...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh dear, Grimm is _not_ happy. Eep.**

**Sorry that, once again, we've had to delve through another psyche before gettin' to the good stuff. But unfortunately it's important. The drama will start its glorious escalation within the next chapter, I promise, but for now ya'll are stuck with an emotionally retarded/wildly possessive Grimmjow. I can only hope that you enjoyed this instalment, and that you will stick with me whilst I vomit out the rest, ne?**

**Is anyone else gaggin' for more hot GrimmIchi action? 'Cause I know I am...**

***sigh***

**Ciao fer now, my sweets**

**Toringtino~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All of the characters belong to one highly talented Tite Kubo - aka the luckiest sonuvagun in the free world.**

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

"_Uhhgggnnn…_" is the first, and oh so intelligent thing out of my mouth when I wake on Tuesday morning.

Christ, I feel like shit, and, fuck me sideways, I cannot for the life of me figure out why. My head is attempting to break some kind of world record for highest number of revolutions in a single second, my eyesight is blurred worse than my high school chum Uryū without his glasses and my every limb aching like I took on Hulk Hogan – and _lost_. Blood rushes to my ears as I gingerly attempt sitting up, making them sing like fucking canaries, and my stomach lurched so badly I reckon it's going to decompose before the day is out.

Clutching at my pounding head, I slowly swivel my body so that I can drop my feet to the familiar cream carpet of my bedroom floor. All of my muscles scream out in protest to the movement, seizing and bunching in a desperate endeavour to keep me from doing anything further. My temples seem to pulsate just that little bit harder when I glance at the clock on my bedside table, only to dully realise that it is no longer morning – and hasn't been for a good two hours now.

"Great," I mutter, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. I've not only missed my morning class, but also the start of my afternoon one. Yoruichi – aka Shihōin-sensei – is going to make my life hell, and, since my brain decided to take an unscheduled vacation, I _still_ have no idea why I'll be getting my nads handed to me on a silver platter come first period tomorrow. Seems highly unfair if you ask me.

Scrubbing both hands roughly over my face, I fight hard to string together even a shred of what happened to me last night. But the task proves to be too much for my frazzled neurons, and a frustrated groan rushes past my lips when I draw blank after blank after _goddamn blank_.

Staggering carefully to my feet, I work with what I've got. Okay, so; head thumping like a jackhammer, violently roiling innards, roaring eardrums and, as becomes apparent when I take my first tentative step forward, a sudden case of vertigo.

This is when I remember that Tatsuki and Orihime took me hostage last night, that they dragged me down to Vizards against my will and where, after my better judgement saw fit to abandon me, I doused myself in so much alcohol I'd be willing to bet my liver disintegrated overnight.

Hn. Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out my ailment from that. The rest of the night is still an incomprehensible blur, but one thing's for certain – I am so very dreadfully and miserably hungover.

_Fantastic._

After emptying my ridiculously full bladder, my next thought turns to immediately filling it again. My mouth feels like I was sucking on cotton all night long, and I don't entirely trust myself to speak like an inhabitant of this planet until I remedy the fact with gallons of ice cold water.

As I exit the bathroom, my nose is instantly caressed by the most delicious, savoury smell I've had the pleasure of experiencing since Yuzu last brought round leftovers. Speaking of which, I'll have to ask her to make sure and come round soon, Grimmjow's probably gagging for some of her home cooking after being denied it so long. The blunette tends to get rather upset when my serene younger sister cooks something special and he isn't on the receiving end.

The appetising aroma, whilst making my mouth water against all odds, also has me furrowing my brow in suspicion. Renji can't cook for shit, and Rukia may actually be even worse. The midget Ice Queen comes from quite the prestigious family, her older brother being practically nobility and all. I doubt she even knew what a kitchen _looked_ like before she started dating the baboon. Point is, nothing Renji could make would smell so heavenly – and besides, I'd be able to at least hear the microwave going – and if it were Rukia…well, I'm sure the fire alarm would've woken me long before now. Hence why, having ruled out the only other two occupants in the apartment, I'm experiencing a heavy feeling of confusion right now.

I dander cautiously down the hall, scowl still etched deeply into my features and wondering if maybe I shouldn't have thrown on a pair of sweats or something – I mean, I'm still only clad in the green boxers I slept in, and what if it happens to be Tatsuki? Or worse, Orihime? It wouldn't be the first time the duo crashed on the couch after a hellish night on the tiles.

Ugh, I can only cringe as I think of all the things I might have gotten up to in my inebriated state last night. As much as it pains me to say it, I tend to be very, um, _'sociable'_ when under the influence. I talk a lot more, laugh a lot more…I even _smile_ a hell of a lot more. I like to touch, and be touched, and oh dear god, with my inability to dredge up even the most miniscule detail from the past sixteen hours, I think I might just go and kill myself now before anyone can tell me just what the hell I _did_ do.

I quickly turn on my heel, figuring that hiding out in my room all day – or at least until I can recall _something_ – is among my best options right now. I really don't think my vodka poisoned heart could handle any dosage of humiliation at the moment.

I get about halfway through my retreat, mere steps from my bedroom door, when I'm suddenly snared from behind. Cursing profoundly at the sneak attack, I have every intention of turning around to give the bastard/bitch a piece of my goddamn mind – unless it's Orihime, of course – but I find all basic motor functions instantly failing me when strong arms curl around my naked torso. One wraps tight around my waist, whilst the other snakes up and crosses over my pectorals. I can feel a warm, sturdy chest pressing firmly into my back at the same time a chin comes to rest on my left shoulder. A warm breath fans across my neck, and I couldn't have repressed the pleasurable shiver that coursed straight through to my core even if I'd tried.

All of my senses are so wonderfully assaulted by my captor; I can feel the other's smooth, taut skin stroking my own, meaning that they are, at the very least, shirtless. The intoxicating, almost spicy musk rolling off of the other is compelling me to take longer inhales, and is so powerful I can practically _taste_ it. Both are making me tremble in a none too unpleasant manner. I peer down to the limbs holding me prisoner, and my vision is almost blinded by flawless alabaster flesh, ten fingernails painted in glossy, midnight black standing out in stark contrast to both our skin tones.

My eyes flutter shut and a wide smirk tugs at my lips when I feel the other's face nuzzle into my neck, giving me a better taste of that fantastically familiar scent. Sharp teeth nip approvingly at a particularly sensitive spot just under my ear when I reach behind me with my left hand, sinking my fingers into silky tresses.

"Ey, there yah're…" the other purred into my ear, the eerie, almost echoic tone making my toes curl. "M'so glad ta see yer finally awake…mah _King~_"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Last Night, Vizards, 10:47<strong>__**PM**_

Nursing my fifth beer, I sigh exasperatedly. I'm sitting at the bar, my face resting against my right fist as I take another slow pull of my beverage. I'm dressed up nice, wearing low riding purple skinnies, a crisp, black shirt with the first three buttons undone, and a pair of black and white Timberland boots. Orihime complimented the look by accessorising it with a black and purple striped sweatband on my right wrist and a thin silver chain around my neck. Even I can admit that the girl did a good job - I mean, I look _good_.

But, in spite of this fact, I find myself sitting here with only one question running through my head, seemingly stuck on repeat: "Why am I here again?"

Renji, Rukia and the happy lesbians are all out on the fairly large dance floor _some_where. I haven't seen hide nor hair of a single one of them in a good fifteen minutes. How is it that they are all having a whale of a time whilst I, the one who's supposed to be receiving some sort of 'awesome surprise', am left all on my own? As I gaze down the bar, watching lazily as Rōjūrō 'Rose' Ōtoribashi supplies to the demand of the punters, I suppose I'm at least lucky enough to be on _this_ side of the bar tonight.

As I knock back the rest of my drink, I find myself wishing that Shinji was working. If he was here, then _maybe_ I'd stand a chance of actually enjoying myself. Shinji Hirako is a relatively good friend of mine I met through working here at the club. He's a blonde bob sporting, flamboyantly eccentric guy just a year older than myself. He may be the kind of gay man that would make you wonder why he wasn't simply born with a vagina, and can run his mouth off worse than any sailor I've ever heard of, but he's one fucking funny character. He gives our boss and proprietor, one Kisuke Urahara, perpetual heart attacks with his antics – and that just makes me love the guy all the more.

Speaking of Urahara, I've been keeping an eagle eye out for the man all night. The clog wearing, bucket hat enthusiast is a damn menace, and a fucking pervert to boot. He's married to my professor, Yoruichi, and whilst the sinfully gorgeous, strangely cat-like woman is exceptionally good at taming the hormone driven psycho, unfortunately she can't always be around to keep tabs on him. That's when he tends to be at his most…_molesty_.

I know what you're thinking, 'he couldn't possibly be _that_ bad'. Oh, no? Well, I reckon I can clear up any doubts you may have with one word – _bondage_. Yeah, that's right, the creepy surfer-reject tried to hold a bondage theme night where all the employees had to come dressed in tight PVC, chains and leather chokers. We _did_ have the choice of whether we wanted to brandish handcuffs or a kinky whip, though. What a generous boss, not perverted in the fucking slightest.

"_Heeelllooo~?_ Earth to Ichigo~!"

A pair of fingers snapping in front of my face alerted me to the fact that Rose was trying to gain my attention – and probably had been for quite some time, too. His wavy blond hair was swept into a loose ponytail, and he was wearing his usual attire of black slacks and a white frilled shirt. I always wondered if he was any good on the piano, he just looked like the type of guy that would be. Maybe I'll ask him later.

I guess one bonus of working for Urahara is that he'll let you wear pretty much whatever you want to work, as long as it's somewhat dressy. However, his 'suggestions' to come clad in tight booty shorts and fishnet vest tops always go duly unheeded.

"Sorry, Rose," I muttered, glancing up into charming violet eyes. "Was off in my own wee world there."

"Yes, I noticed." He picked up my empty bottle, shaking it suggestively. "Another?"

I shook my head, knowing that I was most likely going to end up regretting the next words out of my mouth. "If I'm going to get through the rest of the night, I'm gonna need something _a lot_ stronger."

"Ahh, now that's what I like to hear!" Rose beamed, sauntering away before I could say another word. "I know just the ticket."

As Rose fixed my…uh, whatever the hell it was he was making me, I pivoted round on my stool to cast my eyes over the club scene. As one would expect, the dance floor was full of writhing, mingling bodies, ranging from stone-cold sober designated drivers to the absolutely shit-faced passengers of the poor sods. I had an awful itch to join in with the throng of nameless faces, to lose myself for a few hours and pretend like I didn't have one fucking care in the world.

My ochre eyes fell upon one particularly uninhibited couple situated on the edge of the crowd. The man was tall, with messy, jet black locks and a well toned body. His partner, a much smaller girl in both height and build, had long, shining brunette curls and a dazzling smile in spite of her drunken blush. I watched, admittedly a little transfixed, as the man held the girl close, a knee pressed between creamy thighs as she trailed slender fingers through his hair and ground herself against the proffered limb. The longer I observed, the raunchier their routine became, until I was beginning to feel a little hot under the collar.

Quickly returning to my previous position when they started a match of tonsil-hockey, I groaned. What I wouldn't give to have Grimmjow here - we'd soon make that couple feel like PG in comparison.

It's been a while, but I know firsthand just how _amorous_ the blunette gets when he's had a few. Not that I'm any better. Obviously we can't drink out in public together – shit, we can't do _anything_ in public – so the last time we got hammered together was at his place a good few months back. His wife was away in Milan for the week for some fashion show, so I stayed with him. On the third day he picked me up around the corner from university, as was the norm, but when I got in the car the first thing I noticed was a grin wide enough to split his head right open. It was so carnal, so fucking _sexy_, that I just knew I was in for a good night. Turned out he'd breached Pantera into the UK market at long last, and was given a very nice token of congratulations from his employees in the form of a hamper chockfull of expensive booze.

By just nine o'clock that evening we had managed to polish off two very delicious bottles of wine, and were halfway through a single malt whiskey. To say we were well and truly _bombed_ would be downplaying it greatly. As we sat, chatting and laughing away, little touches and pets became more heated, turned frantic. The alcohol had brought out my inner tease, and his inner animal. His lips were rough and demanding, his hands bruising and absolutely _everywhere_. We ended up fucking right there on the living room floor, clothes torn and scattered, before proceeding to sully the hallway because we didn't have the patience to make it to the bedroom.

Fuck, now I _really_ need Grimmjow here…

_**12:04AM**_

Running my hands up over my chest, I smile stupidly. Thanks to Rose and that neon pink concoction he gave me – of which, in my haste to forget about a certain teal haired stud, I've now had four – I'm rocking a pretty good buzz. Without even trying, I managed to locate Tatsuki and her sienna bombshell, and we're all giving it stacks out on the dance floor. Word has it that the baboon and his little Ice Queen have long since made their excuses, leaving in somewhat of a hurry – which means that I am in absolutely no rush to go home. Hearing Rukia moaning nonsensically and Renji grunting like a bull in heat is definitely _not_ on my 'to do' list for the day, thank you very much.

I don't recognise the song blaring through the copious speakers, but it has a sick bassline and just the right amount of techno to make me move. With Tatsuki dropping low on my left, and Orihime swaying curvaceous hips on my right, I can just sense a whole mess of eyes on us – and I feel_ fucking pimpin'_.

I'm oh so very careful about how close I get to Orihime. The last thing I want and/or need is a fairly drunken, overly protective karate kid pummelling me into the badly scuffed, wooden floor. So whilst I can chance slipping an arm around the sienna beauty's hourglass waist every now and then, I do so with the utmost caution.

As of now, Orihime is in front of me, rolling her hips back into my groin before popping them forward into Tatsuki, the three of us dancing in a kind of too hot, sexy sandwich. I blearily catch sight of Tatsuki's earthy eyes widening as she gazes somewhere behind me, before a devious glint shines in her eyes and she pulls Orihime close, whispering something to her like they're in cahoots about something. I frown when Orihime squeals, clapping her hands and giggling like we're suddenly in preschool again.

I must confess, I'm a little miffed that our good time has been interrupted, especially when it looks like Tatsuki is in no rush to give Orihime back. I'm just about to demand an explanation for such an atrocity, when some fucktard decides to go ahead and manhandle me from behind. Admittedly, I've developed quite the bad habit of instantly raising my hackles when someone, namely another _man_, touches me without strict consent. I guess I can blame Grimmjow for that. He's so goddamn possessive of me, making sure time and time again to reaffirm who it is that I 'belong' to, that all of that domineering control has seeped deep under my skin to the point that I will gladly use brute force to let others know I'm not to be approached, let alone fucking _handled_.

Feeling that this is going to be one of those times, considering just how tight and dominant the arms around my waist are, I go to twist around so that I can better swing for the bastard, only to have my actions halted when hands grip my hips and slam me back against a firm chest. A sultry breath whispers across the skin of my neck, followed closely by a pair of soft lips.

I'm so completely stunned that I freeze in place, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, allowing ample opportunity for one foreign hand to travel up over my abdomen and ghost across my chest. I can feel spidery digits crawling over my collarbone before caressing up my throat, those insistent lips slowly tracing their way up the side of my neck until they reach my ear. A single laugh from the anonymous figure behind me has my heart stuttering to a standstill.

I _know_ that laugh, that manic giggle – I'd recognise it fucking _anywhere_. But no, that can't be right. There's no way. It couldn't possibly be…be…_him_.

…_could it?…_

Any and all doubt as to who the mystery man could be were instantly obliterated to dust when those sinful lips parted and their owner spoke, his voice rolling like a velvety seduction over my suddenly too hot skin.

"Surprise," the voice all but purred, his hands tightening around my hip and throat – not in any kind of threatening manner, but rather a very possessive one. "Did'ja miss me, _King…?_"

Feeling horribly starstruck, my body turns agonisingly slowly in the man's arms until his full profile comes into view. I can't quite believe what I'm seeing, in spite of it _literally_ being right in front of my face.

"No way…" I breathe, knowing full well that he can't hear me. I'm sure that my face looks pretty damn ridiculous right now, contorted as it is between utter disbelief and zealous joy. "Sh-Shiro?" I ask loud enough for him to hear me this time, my hands pressing into his chest to make sure he is in fact substantial, and not just some warped figment of my alcohol-hazed imagination. "Shit…are you really here?"

My unbelievably retarded question is met with a slow, lopsided grin and glittering gold-on-obsidian eyes. "Heh. I fergot jus' how fuckin' adorable yah can be, mah lil' Ichi."

I can only blink. Ogichi 'Shirosaki' Zangetsu. Fuck. _I cannot believe that he's here_. The guy's only my oldest standing friend - I mean, _Christ_, I've known him since we were in diapers! He and his younger brother, Tensa, lived just two doors down from our family clinic with their adoptive father, 'Old Man' Zangetsu. Don't even bother asking what his first name is, because I don't know, no one does. I'm pretty sure not even Shirosaki knows it…

As of now, I can't stop my eyes from roving over my old friend's form – _and what a form it is_. He's wearing a white, long sleeved t-shirt with a black, flaming skull in the centre. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, with a black denim waistcoat over the top. His long, muscular legs are clad in black drainpipe jeans that look like they've been spray-painted on, and his silvery-white hair, sitting in an array of messy spikes not unlike my own, is practically iridescent in the UV lights of the club. A thick silver chain around a corded neck and heavy, shin high combat boots complete the frankly badass look. I discreetly wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, just to make absolutely sure I'm not drooling.

It takes several failed attempts to finally find my voice, and when I do, it's shaky at best. "What're you doing here?"

The deafening, pulsing music drowns out my manly yelp when I'm suddenly yanked forward. Shirosaki cackled as I stumbled into him, lean arms draping around my waist.

"Wha' was tha', King?" his echoic voice hummed in my ear, making my spine tingle. "Yer gonna 'ave ta speak up. Maybe I should keep yah nice an' close…" Strong hands found purchase on my hips, making a point of pinning me tight to their owner as Shirosaki busied himself with nuzzling his face against my cheek. "Hmm. Tha's much better."

Shirosaki and I have always been rather…_close_. That's what happens when you grow up together, when you form a bond tighter than that of natural born brothers. It doesn't matter to either one of us that we don't share the same blood; as far as we're concerned, DNA doesn't account for shit.

"Shiro," I try again, the alabaster man giving a low rumble to indicate that I've successfully captured his attention. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but…why are you here?"

"Maa. What a stupid question, Ichigo. Isn't it obvious? I'm here ta 'ave a good time."

I felt the need to sigh, even though I knew it would go unnoticed. "That's not what I meant, idiot. I mean why are you _here_, back in Karakura? I thought you were still in the States?"

"I thought I told'ja already? I'm here ta carry mah King." He drew back from our lazy embrace, a smirk the likes of which a hyena would be proud of ripping across his lips. "Don' worry about tha details, tha's a story fer later. Now, how's about yah hurry up an' greet me properly, ne? I think I've waited long enough."

I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. "That doesn't answer a damn thing."

I watched as Shirosaki threw his head back and laughed, the sound of that merry cackle flooding my system with a warm sense of familiarity. God, how I've missed the man…

"Why so serious, Ichi?" he purred, those molten orbs flickering with something I couldn't quite place. "It's time ta let loose…and 'ave a lil' fun!"

Quicker than I could utter a protest, or even _think_ of one, a milky hand shot out, slender digits fisting in the tresses on the back of my head as I was hauled forward, my mouth colliding with the pale, eager lips of my oldest friend.

My brain promptly short-circuited as the unforgettable taste of Shirosaki invaded through my parted lips, and I found myself returning the favour with little hesitation. I should probably explain that this isn't exactly unusual for us. I wasn't kidding around when I said that we were close and, although we consider one another as family, our relationship has always transcended high above that. Blood has no standing when you share something thicker.

As I felt Shirosaki deepen the kiss, and myself responding accordingly by more or less sucking the assaulting muscle into a frantic meeting with my own, I felt considerably confused – not to mention guilty as hell. Under any normal circumstances, I would be all over my greatest companion like a persistent rash. What? Oh, give me a break already! The alabaster man is sin personified, in addition to being hot as holy fuck, so it's really not my fault. But none of that matters, because I'm _not_ in any ordinary circumstances, am I? I'm hopelessly in love with Grimmjow, a man I can't ever hope to obtain, and yet can't ever seem to let go of.

_Dammit, Grimm! What the fuck have you done to me?_ I swear that blue haired demon did this on purpose, programming me to reject the touch of anyone but himself. Sounds like something the conniving dickhead would do.

Shirosaki pulled away from the dizzying contact first, his smirk wicked and with a slight edge of victory to it. I couldn't help but suck my bottom lip into my mouth, rubbing my tongue along its length as I tried to extract more of that saccharine flavour his own lips left behind. I always though it something akin to vanilla mixed with a dark, spicy chocolate – sweet, and entirely too addictive.

"Now _tha's_ what m'talkin' about." He licked at his own lips, his smile devious as his tongue traced over sharp canines. "Hot damn, King, I've missed tha hell outta yah. An', judgin' by tha' kiss, yah've missed me too, ey?"

I made a show of rolling my eyes, but could do nothing to wipe the smirk growing on my lips off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you say to a drink?"

"I say hell yes!" he beamed, looking like a little child who'd just been promised a trip to the ice cream parlour.

I chuckled, beginning to lead the way back through the sea of bodies, only to frown when Shirosaki stopped me, pulling me back to mould into his chest yet again. "Shit, yah look so good, Ichi. It's almost hard ta believe jus' how much yah've grown in tha past three years."

"Shiro, what're you do–"

A sharp nip to my pulse point had my question dying on my lips.

"We can 'ave tha' drink, but I don' wanna hear one question outta yah, 'kay King?" I nodded dumbly, and could virtually hear the albino crowing with delight at the quick submission. He's a lot like Grimmjow in that aspect – that is, a sadistic, domineering asshole. "Hmm, _good_, am glad we understand one another. 'Cause y'know, tonight's not about some stupid reunion, oh no. It's about yah showin' me what yah've learned since I've been gone." His lips were dangerously close to my ear, and I was having one hell of a fucking time repressing the shivers dancing down my spine. "Three years is a _long_ time, Ichigo. I wanna see what tha world has taught yah. I wanna see jus' how strong yah've become without yer horse ta carry yah around. I do hope I won't be disappointed…"

The challenge in those words peaked my interest immediately, and I felt pretty confident that the shit-eating grin I bore was enough to put even the lecherous blunette to shame. Tilting my head, I flashed it in the albino's direction. "How's about we forget the drink, and I show you what you want to see right now?"

The cogs in the albino's mind were obviously beginning to turn as a wild smile curled that alluring mouth upward and those hypnotising eyes fell to half mast. "Heh…sounds like a plan ta me, _Ichi-King…_"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Present<em>**

I vaguely remember the rest of the night passing by in a blur of colourful shots, drunken garbling and dirty dancing. I'll admit to using Shirosaki like he was my own personal stripper pole, but in my defence it's not exactly as if I had the motor functions to really know what the hell it was I was doing, and I certainly didn't hear the albino complaining.

By the time Renji and Rukia returned home, it was just after five in the evening, and Shirosaki and I had spent the entire day catching up on lost time. Turned out he was back in town for the next ten months, give or take, as a sort of R&R before jetting off to do a two year tour of Europe. _Lucky fucker_. We'd also established, after frantic questioning from yours truly, that we most definitely did _not_ sleep together last night. That is, we didn't fuck, because I know for a fact that if the albino slept anywhere last night, then it was almost certainly in my bed.

We may not have done _'it'_, but Shirosaki took an unhealthy amount of pleasure in informing me that he had in fact gotten me off, said by the time we fell onto my mattress I'd been rutting against him so hard he barely had to touch me before I was moaning his name and passing out thereafter. Needless to say I called the sadistic fuck a rotten liar, all whilst blushing profusely and refusing to meet his teasing gaze for the subsequent half hour.

Apparently I owe him one now. What this 'one' happens to be, I'd probably be best off _not_ knowing.

All of that aside, I couldn't be happier that the guy is back home, where he belongs. I couldn't possibly tell him out loud for fear of chipping my manly sense of pride, but I've missed him like fucking _crazy_. I honestly thought I wouldn't be seeing him for a hell of a lot longer than three years, what with his being a big, hotshot model and all, so to say that his presence was a 'surprise' was underplaying it just a tad.

The redheaded baboon and his midget Ice Queen walked in to find us reminiscing in the living room. We were both dressed casually; Shirosaki in a pair of my black sweats and an old black tank due to his impromptu overnight stay, and myself in a pair of ripped denim jeans and my purple 'Nice Vibe' t-shirt.

"Hey, 'membah tha time I let yer Pops borrow my trampoline so he could sneak attack yah straight through yer bedroom window?"

The albino howled with laughter whilst I shook my head, cringing at that particular childhood memory. "Yeah, I'm still not entirely sure I've forgiven you for _that_ one yet. Dad and I both needed stitches after that brainless stunt!"

"Shit's fuckin' hilarious! Yer old man is a true legend, King. How's'e keepin' these days? I was almost upset ta find out yah weren't livin' at home anymore. How could yah abandon yer lil' sisters like tha'? I'm surprised y'ain't withered away from starvation without Yuzy's cookin' ta keep yah goin'!"

I scoffed, folding my arms. "Dad's fine. He's the same old goof he's always been and, I fear, always _will_ be. As for Karin and Yuzu, I didn't _abandon_ them. It's not like they ever really needed me in the first place. And besides, they're a lot older now and are perfectly capable of looking after themselves. Oh, and I can nourish myself just fine, thank you very much."

"Ha!" Renji jeered, drawing our attention towards him. "Is that why the poor girl's forced to make the twenty minute walk to here at least four times a week with home cooked meals?"

Shirosaki pinned me with a reproachful glower. "Yah make 'er _walk?_"

"Wha–? But I–! I mean, she–!" I spluttered before glaring at the smug redhead, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Like he can talk! That fatass eats more of her food than I do!"

"Do not!" Renji protested, scowling back in earnest.

"Do too!" I challenged. "Yuzu wouldn't be over here _half_ as much if you didn't pester me about it all the time! So, if you think about it, it's all _your_ fault!"

"Why you little… Don't listen to him, Shiro! He's talkin' shit!"

"Yeah, you _would_ know what that sounds like…"

Renji's scowl intensified to match my own. "What did you just say, ya little punk?"

I was just about to repeat myself, when Shirosaki suddenly spoke up and captured my attention instead. "Yo, midget. What'cha got there?"

I followed his golden gaze to where Rukia was standing, only now realising that she hadn't interfered in mine and Renji's bickering like she normally does. Guess we should count ourselves lucky in that aspect. I noticed that she had something clutched tightly to her chest, and was staring at Shirosaki and I like she was waiting for something – or wanted to molest us, I'm not quite sure. I frowned when I realised it was a newspaper she was clinging to.

When Rukia remained silent, simply watching the two of us with that small, creepy smile on her face, Shirosaki turned puzzled eyes on Renji. "Is she broken or somethin'?"

"Huh?" Renji blinked stupidly, before something seemed to click into place. "Oh, _that_. No, she ain't broken, she's just actin' like the entire female populace of the town at the minute…all thanks to you fags."

"What the hell did you just call me?" I snapped at the same time Shirosaki inquired, "What'cha talkin' about, Red?"

"Here." After a minor struggle to pry the printed pages from Rukia's ironclad grip, Renji tossed the paper in our direction. "Read for yourselves."

I snatched it up before Shirosaki had the chance, quickly rifling through the pages as he looked on over my shoulder. I could hear Shirosaki sucking in a sharp breath when I finally reached the obvious page(s) in question, whilst my eyes near bugged right out of their sockets.

"Well, would'ja look at tha'…" Shirosaki hummed, letting out a low whistle. "I didn't even notice any papz lurkin' around...but_ damn _do I look good!"

"The fuck!" I raged, fisting the paper in my hands as they tightened into fists.

Shirosaki giggled, threading his fingers through my hair. "Ne King, don' worry. Yah look damn fine, too."

"That's not what I'm talking about, baka!" I groused, slapping his hand away.

I ignored the perplexed look dawning on that gorgeous face of his to better focus on my own problems – and the fact that I'm oh so very screwed if a certain blunette finds out about this. There are eight photos in total, depicting the 'epic return of local stunner and resident badboy, Ogichi Zangetsu'. Disregarding the fact that I have a heavy dusting of pink painted across my cheeks and nose in every single one – _way to assert your masculinity, Ichigo_ – it's the large, focal picture that has my heart pumping ice cold blood throughout my veins. It shows Shirosaki firmly planting his lips on mine, predatory smirk in place with one hand curled around the nape of my neck and the other disappearing down out of shot.

That in itself wouldn't be too bad, I could probably work with that and turn it around so that I look the victim – if only my arms didn't happen to be thrown round a pale neck, my tanned fingers gripping silvery tresses like my life depended on it. I know it's only a picture, but it's pretty fucking obvious that I had no intentions of going _anywhere_ at that moment.

Ah, _shit_. Not good…

My only saving grace is that Grimmjow usually only reads the sports and music sections, dumping the rest straight in recycling – he's not really the 'idol gossip' type. So it's perfectly feasible to assume that Grimmjow hasn't seen the horrifically condemning images, that my luck _will_ hold out and I'll live to see my next birthday…

…and then my mobile rings.

All three occupants of the room give me a pointed look as I sit, rooted to the spot and with absolutely no intention of answering the blaring ringtone. I don't need to look, I know it's him. Not because I assigned him his own ringtone or some shit like that, but because I can _feel_ the unbridled fury burning a hole in my pocket. Unsurprisingly, it's Shirosaki who speaks up first.

"Uh, Ichi? Ain't'cha gonna answer tha'?"

"Fuck no!" I yelp, fervently shaking my head. I realise my mistake when Shirosaki frowns, obviously rather confused by such an unwarranted reaction, and Renji gives me a critical glower. "I, um…I mean, there's no need! If it's important, they'll call back."

My mobile, which had cut off only moments ago, decides to ring again just as I happen to say this. I hang my head, defeated.

"Screw this," Shirosaki declared seconds before delving into my pocket. "If yer not gonna answer tha damn thing, then _I_ will."

_Shit._

I quickly snatch the small device from his pale grasp, laughing awkwardly. "No! That's okay, I got it. Excuse me."

I shot up from the couch and made a beeline for my room, just barely catching Shirosaki's bewildered question of, "Tha fuck was tha' all about?" before closing the door behind me. Leaning back against it I let a heavy sigh rush past my lips before lifting the phone to my ear and resigning myself to my fate.

"S'up, Grimm?"

I heard the man growl. "'S'up'? What the fuck, Berry? Why didn't ya answer your damn phone?"

"I was, uh…busy. What difference does it make, I answered _now_, didn't I?" Grimmjow grumbled something under his breath as I stepped further into the room, but I'm not entirely sure I want to know what it was he said, so I don't ask. During the ensuing silence, I hear a distinct _'click, clock'_ sound, immediately recognising it to be an indicator. "Grimm, are you in the car? Where are you going?"

"Heh, funny you should ask. If you're not already decent, then I suggest ya go and get so, 'cause I'm coming to pick ya up."

"Wh-What? But I–"

"No more talkin'," Grimmjow interrupted, impatience obvious in his tone. "Get ready Kurosaki, I'll pick ya up from the usual spot in about ten minutes."

And then he hung up.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, blinking at it's now blank screen. Fuck. I don't need to be a genius to know that this isn't going to be a pleasant meeting. If Grimmjow has seen those photographs, then I'm in for it.

"So, tha' was _him_, ey?"

I spin round to find Shirosaki leaning against the open doorframe, alabaster arms crossed lazily across his chest as those glittering golden eyes searched my face. I couldn't hold his penetrating gaze for long, and instead averted my eyes off to the side.

"Yeah. That was him…Grimmjow."

I'd told Shirosaki what I could about the blunette over the years he'd been away, but obviously the information was rather limited. There's only so much you can tell someone through a text or over the phone, and my relationship with Grimmjow definitely requires a certain amount of free time in order to explain. I don't know what Shirosaki's real opinion of Grimmjow is, he never did disclose that much. He always told me that it was none of his business, that I was a 'big boy' and could live with my own mistakes.

It's like an unspoken rule between us; if you're not told openly, then don't pry.

"Listen, sorry Shiro, I know you just got back and all, but I gotta bail." I pocketed my phone and grabbed my wallet which was sitting on the bedside table, just in case. Shirosaki said nothing as I passed by him on my way out, so I paused to clap him on the shoulder, squeezing firmly. "I'm glad you're back home, Shi. Really."

I could see a slow smirk pulling at those sinful lips as he tilted his head back to look at me, his gold-on-obsidian eyes calculating, but no less sincere for the fact. "Aye, it's good to be home, King."

I gave a slight nod, patting his shoulder once before releasing him and making for the front door. Renji and Rukia were in the kitchen when I walked by, which made me fear for Shirosaki's physical health somewhat, but I decided not to comment on it.

"Oi, Ichigo!" Renji hollered, in spite of the fact that he was close enough to whisper and I'd still have heard him. The idiot. "Where ya off to? I was hopin' the four of us could sit down and chill out, y'know, just like the good old days."

I rolled my eyes as I stepped into my scuffed up black Converse high tops. "Okay, first of all, that makes us sound like a bunch of old men reminiscing about our lost youth–"

"Don't forget 'old lady'!" Rukia piped up, sounding genuinely upset she hadn't been included. And here I thought that _old_ and _lady_ were strictly taboo with women.

Tch, shows what I know…

"Uhh, right…_and_ old lady." Rukia beamed at the mention, and I fought to hold back a scoff. "And secondly, no can do tonight. I've got stuff to do."

"Stuff?" Renji inquired, one tattooed brow arching in suspicion.

"Yeah…_stuff_."

I hastily took my leave right then, before I got dragged into yet another unwanted quarrel.

* * *

><p>By the time I reached the 'usual spot' – a quiet park in a sparsely populated area not too far from the apartment – Grimmjow was already waiting, the sleek black body of his Audi gleaming in the late afternoon sun. I reached for the door handle, only to have the door swing open for me, accompanied by the gruff words, "Get in."<p>

Taking a deep breath, I did as I was told and slid into the passenger seat, gently closing the door behind me. Before I could utter even one syllable, the blunette pealed away from the curb and sped down the street.

There was a dark feeling of foreboding in the car, and it was pressing heavily on my shoulders, making me itch something fierce for some kind – _any_ _kind_ – of noise to fill the void. Playing awkwardly with the hem of my t-shirt, I chanced a glimpse over at Grimmjow. His beautiful cerulean eyes were trained on the road, his posture casual but perceptibly tense, and with no sign of letting up anytime soon.

Oh well, it's now or never…

"So, Grimm…" A particularly chilly side-glance had me rethinking my plan, and wishing I'd brought a jacket. Still, I pushed onwards. "What's with the spontaneous meeting? Don't tell me you really missed my company that much after just one day?"

My poor attempt at humour and, indeed, lightening the ominous mood, was met with a sharp right turn and a sudden slam of the brakes. Narrowly escaping a nasty collision with the dashboard, I turned blazing ochre eyes on the culprit.

"What the hell!" I screeched, twisting my body to face him fully. "Could you at least _warn_ me the next time you're going to do something so stupid? Shit, I nearly–"

Whatever words I had been about to say were quickly jumbled, and then rapidly forgotten, when a pair of rough, hungry lips clashed against my own with no warning. His tongue demanded entrance immediately, and I was only too willing to oblige his silent command, fisting my hands in electric teal locks to hold him in place – not that it seemed like he was going anywhere, anyway.

I can't hold back the wanton moan when that wicked tongue plunders, when pointed canines nip and a calloused hand balls up in the front of my t-shirt. Now, when it comes to Grimmjow, I know that he's an overbearing bastard, one that he likes to claim his possessions and clearly mark his territory like an alpha wolf in the wild. But _this_ is something entirely different. This kiss…it has an edge to it that, dare I say, makes it seem like he's a little jealous.

He pulls away first, leaving me clutching urgently at his retreating form – that is, until I get a face full of printed paper. I'm about to sock him square in the jaw for shoving the damn thing in my face like that, but my actions falter when I catch a glimpse of obnoxious orange hair. My heart leaps into my throat when I realise that it's _that_ article – I mean, _of course_ it would be – and, judging by the look of sheer contempt marring Grimmjow's usually handsome features, I'm pretty sure I'm about to die. Shit.

"Uh, I can explain," I start lamely, hating just how pathetic and quivery my voice sounds. "You see, what happened was–"

"Can it, Kurosaki," he growls, and I do so instantaneously. It's not like I've never seen the man pissed before, but this is different – he's severely _fucked off_. "I'm not interested in some lame ass excuse. All I want to know is when in the hell I gave ya permission to go off and suck face with another man? 'Cause I sure as shit don't remember ever sayin' such a thing."

Um, wow. Just…_wow_.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" My shock at such an unjustified outburst is rapidly escalating into anger. "You can't be serious, Grimm. You're this upset over one stupid kiss? That's fucking rich coming from a man who goes home to _bang_ his _wife_ every night of the week!"

Grimmjow snorts. "It's hardly _every_ night."

"Like that's even relevant! Point is, you have absolutely no room to talk."

"You two fuckin', or what?" he asks me, his voice as blunt as I've ever heard it.

My mouth drops open at the blatant accusation. "What! I don't really see how that's any of your business, but no, we're not. Jesus, Grimm, the man only just got back from America yesterday! He's been my best friend since before I could walk."

"Like I give a shit," he rumbled, pinning me with a searing blue gaze. "It makes no difference to me what ya's _used_ to be, all that matters is what he is to ya _now_. And if _that_," he jammed his finger at the paper still resting open on my knee, "is anything to go by, I'd say he's more than just a _'friend'_."

In a fit of frustration and rage, I scrunched up the offending pages and hurled them out the door. "Happy now? Fuck, you're being so ridiculous over this whole thing…"

"Ridiculous, huh?" He reached across at lightning speed and seized the front of my shirt, jerking me forward to meet him halfway. I matched his stern glower with a dark scowl of my own. "Let's get one thing straight, brat. I, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, do not _share_. Whether ya like it or not, _you_ belong to _me_, got that?" He tugged my shirt for better emphasis, but gave me no time in which to answer. "Where is that albino prick right now?"

I barked out a laugh, but it was void of any humour. "Yeah right! Like I'm going to tell _you_ that!"

"Tch, should'a known ya'd stick up for your little _boyfriend_." He shoved me back roughly into my seat and repositioned himself in his own. "Like it matters, I'll get 'im sooner or later. But right now, I've more important problems to deal with."

I really, _really_ didn't want to ask, but fuck it all if morbid curiosity didn't get the better of me. "Oh yeah? Like what exactly?"

A wildly feral, yet entirely malicious smirk ripped across the blunette's face then, and _dear god_ it had my cock instantly springing to life and my whole body shivering from head to toe. _The dick_. I could literally be _the_ most livid man on the planet at the infuriating asshole, but that ain't ever going to change the fact that Grimmjow is one insanely hot piece of ass…

I licked my suddenly too dry lips in anticipation as those captivating eyes roved over my trembling form – which was now due to a potent mix of both fury _and_ lust. The action didn't escape the older man's notice, and his smirk broadened considerably.

"'Like what', you ask?" he responded as he pulled back out onto the road, his movements a little…rushed. "Like teaching wayward brats _exactly_ where there place is."

I could only gulp.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah, Grimmjow, ya manipulative little sneak.**

**Well, there ya'll have it, chapter 5. So, enter Shirosaki - can I get a 'YAY!'? No...? Oh, well, alright then. Sorry to anyone who was hoping/guessing that the 'mystery model' was going to be someone else, though am confident that the vast majority of ya's seen _that_ one coming, ne? Hopefully our favourite, badass Hollow can provide some highly anticipated mayhem/further complications for our beautiful boys in the near future - but who knows, right?**

**I can only hope ya'll enjoyed the latest instalment, and hopefully I'll see ya's again soon~**

**Ciao fer now, my sweets**

**Toringtino~**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me. Well, the store bought chemical under my sink does, but this particular brand of Bleach - y'know, the only one actually _worth_ owning - does not. Rawr.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

The door crashed hard against the wall as we stumbled inside the room, the two of us fumbling and groping at one another like a couple of hormone rampant teens. It took three attempts just to find the door with my foot in order to kick it closed, and, as soon as it slammed into place, I had Kurosaki pressed up hard against it. His mouth was hot and fervent against my own, his tongue and teeth pulling needy kisses from me without a word of complaint. After all, there's nothing sexier than an overly desperate, deliciously horny Strawberry.

As I shove my hands up his shirt, my hungry fingers tracing roughly over as much of that delectable skin as they possibly can, I can admit to taking my frustrations out on the kid. Not just for the whole picture thing – though that's undoubtedly the main antagonist at this particular moment. Fuck, with everything that's happened over the past twenty-four hours, I just need a distraction, a goddamn _break_. And Kurosaki, whether he likes it or not, is going to provide that much needed distraction.

Though I have to say, with the way he's grinding up against me, mewling into my mouth and curling his fingers through my hair, it would seem that the brat doesn't much mind the position he's in right now.

"Mmm, Grimmjow…" Kurosaki moaned when I paused in plundering his mouth, nipping down his jaw to ravish his neck instead. He moulds himself tight against me when I start sucking on his pulse point. "Ahh, shit…Grimm, let's–_nghn_…let's go to the bed…"

I took what could be considered a rather risky move tonight in order to violate my Berry. In my haste to get Kurosaki somewhere inside so that I could get inside _him_, I confess to letting my dick take the reins from my brain, and brought us to some low-priced motel on the outskirts of town.

Being anywhere in public with the brat is a potential problem. I'm not saying that I'm some big shot celebrity or anything, but I'm known publicly enough to be easily recognised – a fact further accentuated by the fact that I have electric blue fucking hair. Who wouldn't remember _that?_

Luckily enough for the two of us though, money can solve about ninety percent of all life's little problems – and I just happen to have a shitload of the stuff. All I had to do was give a handsome 'tip' to the receptionist and viola; we were booked in under Mr. and Mrs. Asari, with the promise that our faces would be instantly forgotten. Job done.

Of course, Kurosaki near had a fucking kitten when I told him that he was acting the wife, but he can go to hell. He and that little Snowflake of his have pissed me the fuck off, and henceforth, for the remainder of tonight, his opinions/complaints don't account for shit. When I'm through with the Berry, he'll certainly think twice before he pulls any such shit-brained stunt again – that, and he'll never walk in a straight line again.

What can I say? Payback's one hell of a fucking bitch.

I rocked my hips against him, revelling in the elicited reaction of a breathy gasp and the loud _thunk_ of his head as he threw it back against the door. I rumbled low in my chest as he hooked one of those mile-long legs around my waist, his fingers fisting to yank harshly at my head.

Growling, I pull back to rip his t-shirt up and over his head, throwing it somewhere behind me. Kurosaki throws his arms around my neck as I seize those lightly swollen lips, my tongue pushing deep and insistent into his mouth as his hands dip down the back of my own shirt.

He sucks eagerly on my invading muscle as my hands rove the taut expanse of his back, roaming down low until they find purchase on slim hips. I pull him flush against me, curling my tongue around his own as I press my right knee between his thighs. Kurosaki immediately takes advantage of the proffered appendage, rutting against it like a fucking bitch in heat. I lave my tongue approvingly over his exposed collarbone, laying my claim as I suck hard and dig my thumbs into protruding hipbones.

Kurosaki is moaning like a wanton whore, and by _fuck_ is it turning me on. The wee fucker does it on purpose, because he knows how much I love to hear him coming undone – or just coming, period. Both are just as erotic and beautiful as the other.

"Fuck, Grimm…_please_…" the brat breathes hotly against my neck when we part for air.

I smirk at the frankly delicious sound of his begging, thinking that I would quite like to hear a lot more of it before the nights out. "What is it, Ichigo?"

"More…" A husky groan is torn from my throat when I feel his tongue lap against my ear. My lust fogged mind vaguely registers slender fingers working on unbuttoning my shirt. "I need _more_…"

Fuck my life. I'm supposed to be _furious_ at the damn kid. And yet here we are, Kurosaki working his dark magic on me so that I lose all sense of normalcy. When I'm with him, when we're like _this_, I can't fucking function like a normal human being. I become completely uninhibited, relying on natural, inbred instincts to the point that I'm more animal than man – and right now, that animal is roaring at me to claim and dominate what's mine.

My Berry's honeyed voice is so fucking thick with desire I can feel it seeping under my skin and simmering to my core, making my straining arousal throb almost painfully. When he finally divests me of my shirt, his sinful fingers are suddenly everywhere, exploring every inch of my heated flesh and leaving burning trails in their wake.

We establish skin-on-skin contact when Kurosaki pulls me to him, his right thigh squeezing around my waist as he pulls me down for a needy kiss. I thread my fingers through those ridiculous orange spikes to deepen the contact, my free hand dropping to run down the length of his thigh until I'm groping the round, firm globe of his ass. Kurosaki moans so sweetly that I feel my legs buckle.

_God-fucking-dammit!_ This is _not_ how it's supposed to go! He's supposed to be on his knees right now, pleading and simpering for my forgiveness like the naughty little Strawberry he is…

Hn. Now there's a fucking _beautiful_ mental picture. One that just so happens to be entirely doable…

"Knees, Kurosaki," I mumble against his kiss bruised lips.

The brat draws back, and I have to swallow thickly at the sight of those sexy, hooded chocolate eyes gazing back at me through heavy lashes. Fuck me, the kid is completely clueless as to just how fucking gorgeous he is.

"Huh?" he asks stupidly, his brows furrowed in a somewhat typical frown.

I leer down on the boy, resting a forearm against the door to pin in him place. "I _said_, on your knees, brat."

A cold look of defiance flashed through those shimmering orbs of his, for the comment or the nickname I have no idea, but either way I quickly put a stop to such foolishness with a sharp tug on silky tresses.

"Don't even _think_ about backchattin' me, boy," I growl, giving a harsh nip in reprimand to his corded neck. A sly smirk rips across my mouth at the sharp intake of breath I extract from him. "Ya better listen up, and listen _good_, Ichigo. That was a damn stupid stunt ya pulled last night, and you'd better believe that you're gonna pay dearly for it. Starting now, I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth unless it's a moan of pleasure – ya got that? Oh, and begging is also permitted." I bite down hard on the top of his ear, my cock pulsing with excitement at the beautiful hissing sound Kurosaki made as a result. "Now, do as you're told. You _really_ don't want me to have to repeat myself a second time, I can assure you."

Kurosaki gave me a heated glare, which I returned tenfold. Stupid kid just doesn't know when to call it quits and do as commanded, and it was going to get him into some serious trouble. I could see that stubborn streak slowly corroding and breaking down, however, when I trace my fingers sensually down his front, purposefully grazing over peaked nipples.

"Mmn, _fuck_…" he cursed, his eyes screwing shut.

"Heh. We'll get there eventually Berry, but only if you're a good boy and listen to master." The indignant look darkening his eyes when they snapped open made my heart skip a beat. _Fucking delicious_. "Well? I'm waiting…_Ichigo_."

I decided to play dirty, purring the name in his ear as my hand ghosted in a teasing touch over his obvious arousal. He rolled his hips forwards, in search of more contact, but I denied him by removing my hand altogether and planting it square on his chest to keep him rooted.

He swears. I smile.

"Where're your manners, Berry? You should know by now that ya don't get until ya give."

Kurosaki scoffed. "Manners? _You're_ the one trying to guilt trip me into giving you head!"

I barked out a laugh at that, though my tone was no less serious for it. "So what? It was _your_ mistake, so it's _your_ price to pay." I curled a hand around the nape of his neck before he could protest any further, pulling him close to murmur ardently in his ear, "C'mon, Ichigo. If ya play nice I'll be sure to reward ya…I'll fuck ya so hard and deep, just the way ya like it. Shit kid, I'll make ya _scream_…"

I inwardly crowed with triumph when the brat shuddered against me, his pleasurable tremors racking straight through to the searing heat coiled within my abdomen. To my immense relief, Kurosaki said nothing further, instead latching his petal soft lips to my neck.

I watched with a rapidly swelling hunger as he slowly began his descent, his hands already working the belt of my ripped Diesel jeans as that hot mouth kissed, licked and nipped its way down my torso. I curled my lip in a dark snarl when the damn brat bit down callously on my left nipple, probably in some twisted form of rebellion. Fortunately for him, I get off on that shit.

Or maybe that should be _un_fortunately…?

The muffled _thud_ of his knees hitting the carpeted floor was like the sweetest harmony to my ears, and had my blood singing in anticipation. Dark chocolate eyes glared up at me, to which I responded with a wolfish grin, before the little cock-tease popped the button of my jeans and then proceeded to inch down the zipper with his teeth. His goddamn fucking _teeth._

Bastard's going to be the fucking death of me, I just know it.

I sucked in a sharp breath when slender fingers wrapped around my now fully engorged cock, pulling it free from its too tight confines at long last. Suddenly needing to support myself, I braced both hands flat against the door in front of me, my eyes clenching shut as those wicked fingers danced up and down the length of my shaft.

"Fuckin' hell, Ichigo…" I ground out, my hips rocking ever so slightly when he gave a mischievous squeeze. "Get on with it already!"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. "Tch. Always so impatient…"

I was just about to scold him, to remind him that _he_ was the one under punishment here, when my world suddenly erupted into a blinding euphoria of wet warmth. The little cock-slut set a slow and teasing pace to begin with, his mouth sucking softly on the head of my arousal whilst his right hand picked up the slack, pumping along the shaft.

A rumbling groan bubbled up in my chest as he got a little more comfortable, and consequently a whole lot bolder, that moist heat now descending to take in most of my length.

My mind was a complete mess of white light, static interference and jumbled thoughts. Shit, I forgot just how damn talented that usually infuriating mouth of his was. When he used a gentle scrape of teeth, digging his tongue into the slit to gather the beads of precum I could feel building there, I nearly fucking lost it. Dropping my right hand, I buried it into silky orange spikes, guiding him to take me in even further and dictating the pace.

Kurosaki spluttered slightly when I bucked my hips, but I couldn't bring myself to care much. I was far too lust-drunk for that. And besides, he's a big boy, he can take it.

I scratched my fingers through his hair in approval when he gave a particularly greedy suck, hollowing his cheeks so that he could swallow around me. He hummed at the action, which only served to rocket pleasurable vibrations straight through my cock and to the building inferno within my abdomen.

"Shit" and "Ichigo" were the only two words I could dredge out of my now vastly limited vocabulary, which was then restricted further to nonsensical growls and groans when the fucker decided to go and deepthroat me. I was swiftly losing the self-control to hold back, unable to take such a sweet and gifted torture. The only warning my pretty little lover got was a throaty moan and a fisting of my hand in his hair, before the blistering coil came undone and I was shooting my load deep down his throat.

I didn't have much time to recover from my glorious high before Ichigo was up and all over me. He kissed me hard, my nose wrinkling slightly at the bitter taste of my own release on his tongue. I hate anything that mars his delectably saccharine, entirely too addictive flavour. I must say, as he throws himself bodily into me, his overly needy, submissive behaviour is doing such wonderful things to my inner alpha – not to mention was quickly stirring life back into my now spent arousal.

"So, what about that reward you promised me?" he murmured seductively, placing a hot, open mouthed kiss to my throat.

I held him flush against me, nuzzling my nose into his bright locks. "Actually, I didn't _technically_ promise ya anything…"

"_Grrrriiiimmmm…_"

I cocked a brow, genuinely surprised that the brat just _whined_. Damn, he must be _really_ fucking desperate. Sensing the perfect opportunity, I let a lopsided grin curl my lips.

"Mmm, y'know Ichigo, I think I like the sound of that," I purr deviously, littering his neck and shoulders with small, nipping kisses. "Beg for me some more, and I'll give you _exactly_ what ya want."

I was dangerously close to laughing my ass off at the cute pink colour that stained his cheeks at my words, but managed to hold myself back. Just about. Knowing Kurosaki, he's going to need some encouragement in order to do this, and embarrassing him further by mocking him certainly isn't going to do it.

Fortunately – _for me_ – I know what will.

"C'mon, Berry," I hum huskily, letting my hands roam down his bare back until they're cupping his pert ass, where I give both globes a hearty squeeze. "Tell me how much ya want me…I wanna hear ya _beg_ to have my hard cock pound into that tight little hole a'yours. Would ya like that, Ichigo? Would ya like me to fuck ya so hard you forget which way is up?"

Having sufficiently distracted the boy, I was able to dip my hands down the back of both his jeans and boxers. A startled gasp when I brush the pad of my index finger over his puckered hole was the first indication that he'd caught up.

"Say it, Ichigo."

I can tell that he's trying to be angry, but a lot of the heat in his glare is lost due to the hazy, lusty look blazing in his eyes. "F-Fuck you…I'm not–_mmph_, shit…I'm not going to beg!"

I smirk, knowing that I have my blushing prey well and truly cornered. "Oh, but you will, Berry…"

I pressed the tip of my finger inside the warmth beckoning to me like a sultry siren, grinning when Kurosaki cursed and arched into my chest. I gradually pushed it in further, biting back a groan as it was practically sucked inside, and kissed my beautiful temptation passionately. Pumping the digit in and out at a teasingly slow pace, I'm not at all surprised when Kurosaki began mewling and grinding against me. Heh. It was almost _too_ easy.

"Say it. Beg me to fuck you, Ichigo, and I'll gladly grant ya your wish…"

I could feel my body shivering with anticipation as emotions battled across his features; rage, desire, frustration, mortification – until finally, he caved.

With a deep, breathy sigh, he locked stunning chocolate eyes with mine, that obstinate determination burning brightly behind them in spite of his next words.

"Please, Grimmjow, I want you to fuck me." A wide smirk tugged at my lips as the brat draped his arms around my neck, letting his eyelids droop to half mast, giving him an oh so fuckable look. "Please, I beg of you, do me hard and fast. Right here. Right now…_master_."

_Fuck_.

Just…_fuck_.

Any self-restraint I'd been harbouring up until that point promptly shattered into a fine powder and was instantly lost to the wind. Fucking Kurosaki and his dirty little mouth.

Hastily removing my finger, I hoisted him up and over my shoulder in a fireman's lift, blatantly ignoring his squawk of disapproval as I carried him over to the bed. I deposited him none too gently onto the mattress, his body bouncing once before I crawled over the top of him, kissing him deeply as I moulded myself against him.

I immediately attack his pants, my hands fumbling slightly in my lust-driven urgency to get the kid naked already. He returned the favour, yanking my jeans and boxers down to my knees, using his feet when his hands could no longer reach, then leaving me to finish the job by kicking them off my ankles.

Kurosaki purred positively beautifully when my larger frame covered his own, his rock-hard arousal rubbing against my half-hard one enough to drag a wanton moan from the both of us. Desire was pumping thick and fast around my system, heating my skin and making me slightly delirious. That damn Kurosaki and his erotic mewling weren't helping matters, either.

I was busy tasting my sinful Strawberry, my tongue laving over firm pectorals and dusky nipples, when the sound of rummaging momentarily distracted me. Glancing up, I noticed Kurosaki with a bottle of lotion in his hand, frowning when he poured a liberal dab into his hand and then spread it over his fingers.

Curiosity peaked, I propped myself up onto my elbows. "What're ya doin' there, Berry?"

My curiosity instantly turned to disbelief when a dark, cherry red splashed across his cheeks and he smiled coyly, unable to meet my penetrating gaze.

_No. Fucking. Way._

"Well, I, uh…" he started, his eyes firmly fixated off to the side. "I just thought that I'd get the ball rolling, y'know?"

Dear fucking god. I think my heart just stopped. "Are…are ya sayin' that you're gonna prepare _yourself?_"

"Don't make me say it out loud, asshole!" he snapped as his blush darkened – if at all possible.

"Fuck me," I breathed, scarcely daring to believe my ears. "You really are one sexy little slut, ya know that Ichigo? Well, by all means, go right ahead."

I shift myself further down the bed so that my head was situated between his thighs, giving myself a front row seat as I all too eagerly waited for the show to begin. Kurosaki on the other hand, was less than pleased about this – and let me know about it, of course.

"Grimmjow! What the hell're you doing?"

I arched a brow, grinning lecherously at the profusely blushing Berry. "What? You honestly think I'm gonna miss out on the golden opportunity to watch you finger yourself? _Tch_. Get real."

Seeing that he was suddenly having second thoughts, I quickly sprang into action before he could change his mind altogether. I seized the wrist of the lubed up digits and gently coaxed his hand down between his legs.

"There's no need to be so shy, Ichigo," I purred as I guided one of his fingers into the tight heat of his entrance, all the while kissing and softly sucking at his inner thigh to distract him. "Relax, kid. It's only me."

Kurosaki eventually began to unwind, the tension visibly draining from his body at the same time soft moans began spilling from pink, kiss swollen lips. I could feel myself getting harder and harder by the fucking second as I watched him pump a slender finger in and out of himself, knowing all too well just how fucking fantastic those velvety walls felt clenching around _any_ part of me.

Shit. How did I ever get so lucky to deserve this boy?

"C'mon Berry, I know ya can take more than _that_. Let's really get that ball movin', ne?"

By the time he added a third finger, I was pretty sure I was going to have some sort of cardiac seizure from overexposure to pure sin. I have to give the kid props, 'cause he's really getting into it now. His legs are bent at the knees and spread wide, giving me a fucking glorious view of his fingers as they disappear in and out of that little pucker. And the _moaning_, dear _god_ the moaning is turning me on faster than I'd ever thought possible.

He's such a little dick-tease, my Berry. Seriously, I'm barely touching him at all, just the odd kiss or lick of encouragement to a peachy thigh, and he's _still_ calling out my name like _I'm_ the one with my fingers penetrating him.

"_Mmngh_, Gr-Grimmjow…ah, fuck, _haa_…Grimm…"

See what I mean? _Damn_. "Yes, baby? What is it?"

His cock is lying flat against his stomach, twitching and pulsing with every new thrust of his digits, and his neck is fully arched, driving his head into the pillows at the top of the bed. I can see his toes curling in the duvet, his free hand languidly stroking up and down his precum slick shaft. All in all, it makes for one ridiculously alluring sight – one that I'm not too sure I can stand for much longer.

"Gr-Grimm…_mmm_, pl-please…oh, _god_…I…I…"

Taking my cue, I crawl forward, bending down to lap up the glistening, pearly drops of leaking cum from his stomach. "Are you finished playing with yourself, Ichigo? Do you need somethin' _bigger_ to satisfy your appetite?"

As I say the words, I roll my hips into him, the head of my newly revived – and just about ready to fucking rupture – erection prodding against his still plunging fingers. A loud, heady moan rips itself from Kurosaki's mouth, and I growl at its underlying message.

Taking that as answer enough, I yank the brat's hand away from my prize and, with one brutal snap, immediately replace it with my entire length. A purely carnal noise is torn from my very soul as I'm engulfed in tight, wet heat, the feeling so incredibly euphoric I have to resist the powerful urge to come right there and then.

I don't pussyfoot around, but rather go straight in for the kill, slamming into my Berry hard and fast, the animal within me raising its head and demanding I dominate the pliant, shuddering body pinned beneath me. I give a mental nod, agreeing wholeheartedly, and it doesn't take long from there for _it_ to happen.

"Ah fuck, yes! Right there, Grimm! Again!"

Kurosaki's legs are suddenly around my waist, gripping me tight as his heat sucks me in even deeper. I grab the backs of his thighs and surge forward, damn near bending the orange haired boy in half as I repeatedly fill and empty his spasming channel.

"You are _mine_, Ichigo." I capture his lips in a fiery kiss, our tongues twisting and curling desperately as we hurtle towards our completion. "You belong to _me_, and _only_ me." I snap my hips forward hard, dragging a mewling cry from my pretty lover. "Say it. Tell me who it is you belong to."

A deadly accurate stab to his prostate has him bucking his hips up, a fantastically ardent moan pouring from his lungs and leaving him with no choice but to answer me. "Shit, _yes!_ Y-You, Grimmjow! _Mmngh_… It's always been you!"

And that's all I need.

I thrust into the boy with abandon, giving us both what we so desperately need right now. Blunt nails digging into my shoulders and a sudden clamping of his inner walls is all the notification I get as my Berry reaches orgasm. His head snaps back, severing our heated contact so that he can scream my name out into the confines of the room as he comes hard between our bodies. The sight of his whole body arching and trembling, covered in a shimmering layer of sweat, coupled with the erotic tone of his yowling that caresses my senses like a dark seduction, has me swiftly following suit.

Feeling my imminent release rapidly approaching, I dip my head to his neck, biting down hard on supple flesh to muffle the possessive growl I know would otherwise issue forth as I come deep inside his twitching canal.

For the longest while I cannot move a single muscle, the brat having successfully drained me of every last ounce of strength. Slim fingers pet lethargically through my dampened locks as I slump against the flushed, panting body under me, my heavily weakened arms unable to hold me up even a second longer.

"Ugh, Grimm…" Kurosaki groans, his voice wonderfully slurred with contentment and fatigue - thank you very much. "Move your damn ass over. I can barely breathe down here!"

"Tch. I just fucked ya senseless, and _that's_ the thanks I get?" Gently pulling out of his well abused hole, I roll over, sprawling out on my back. "You're such a whiny little bitch, ya know that?"

"Shut up, di–" Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off by a loud, obnoxious yawn, his mouth opening so wide it brought tears to his eyes. How incredibly cute it made him look. "Dickhead," he stated when he was done, finishing off his interrupted thought.

I merely rolled my eyes and snorted. "Whatever, brat. I'm goin' for a smoke."

"Mm, 'kay," he mumbled, nodding slightly as he curled up on his side. "Want me to come with?"

I smiled, touched at the offer when it was obvious that he was struggling to even keep his eyes open. "No. You stay here, rest up for a bit. I'll be back soon enough."

He didn't respond, and when I peered over at him I could tell he was already drifting off. How could I tell? Well, because sleeping is one of the very few occurrences in the brat's life where he doesn't have that deep scowl scrunching up his brow. He almost looks younger without it, like a teenage boy devoid of a fucking care in the world.

Scoffing quietly to myself, I shift to place a chaste kiss to the now smoothed out skin between his eyebrows, smirking when Kurosaki hummed pleasantly in his slumber. Tearing myself away from his comfortable warmth and enticing scent, I force myself off the bed, dressing quickly before I change my mind and succumb to the orange haired temptress.

I take one last, long look at the kid in all his naked glory, before grumbling lowly to myself and throwing the comforter around him, denying myself the temptation of that luscious, peach hued skin, and storm out of the room.

* * *

><p>After a record breaking three smokes in five minutes, I reluctantly return to Kurosaki. I watched the brat sleep for what seemed like hours to me, but in reality was only about twenty minutes or so. The soft sound of his breathing is the only sound filling the horribly silent space around us, and I don't like it. Not Kurosaki's light snores – they're actually pretty damn adorable – no, I was referring to the silence. It's getting to me, is giving my mind room to think and speculate and consider – and that's never good.<p>

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, tenderly running my fingers through those bright ass tresses of his as he sleeps, completely ignorant to the maddening thoughts whirling like a goddamn tornado through my head. He's so fucking gorgeous when he's calm like this, and I can feel my heart clenching tight in my chest as I think about the ugly emotions that would surely mar such beauty when he finds out about Tia. Shit, he's going to be absolutely fucking _furious_ – and honestly? That scares the shit out of me.

As a man, there's not a lot I'm afraid of – and even less I would actually _admit_ to being afraid of. But the thought of losing Kurosaki? Well, that _terrifies_ me. There's so much I want to tell him, that I _need_ to tell him…but I can't do it. I'm a fucking coward, I know I am, but how can I risk losing the kid? It's so easy to set my resolve, to tell myself that I can do it – when I'm on my own. But when he's here, looking so goddamn beautiful and innocent of the world and its horrors, I simply can't bring myself to break his heart.

Ah shit, who am I trying to kid here? As much as I don't want to hurt the boy, it's my own damn heart I'm protecting.

Kurosaki groans suddenly, and I dimly realise that during my frustrating musings, I accidentally tightened my hold in his hair. I curse and quickly retract my hand, but it's too late. He rolls over, his stunning ochre eyes blinking open as a small yawn captures those kiss bruised lips.

"Grimm?" he asks as he props himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What's up? How long was I out?"

"Not long," I shrug. "'Bout thirty minutes, I'd guess."

"Oh." He gives me a timid little smile that melts my heart more than it probably should have, and pulls back the corner of the duvet. "Wanna join me?"

Jesus fucking Christ, he really is trying to kill me.

Shaking my head before I instantly cave – like I so badly want to – I stand up. "No can do, Berry. It's time to get your lazy ass up; I really gotta roll before Bels gets on my case."

It pains me to see a small twinge of hurt dull those beautiful orbs at the mention of Tia, and I mentally kick myself for being so fucking brainless as to even bring her up. When I notice Kurosaki staring at my hand, I realise I also forgot to take my wedding band off like I usually do, and it hits me like a blow to my gut.

_Dammit_. When the fuck did life get so damn complicated?

"Is there time to grab a shower?" Kurosaki asks, breaking the hideous silence that had momentarily engulfed us.

"'Course," I scoff, folding my arms across my chest. "It's not like I can go home stinkin' of sex and a cheap motel room. Shit Kurosaki, ya really are as stupid as that ridiculous, bleached mop a'yours, aren't ya?"

"That doesn't make any sense," the brat retorts, his perpetual scowl firmly back in place. "And besides, _you_ of all people should know for a _fact_ that my hair's completely natural."

I grin wolfishly at the implication. "Heh. You're not wrong there, Berry."

Kurosaki sighs heavily. "Why the hell do I encourage you?" he asks, though more of himself than me.

Throwing the light duvet back, he peels himself from the bed, unashamedly pottering about the room utterly starkers as he gathers up his clothes. I don't think I'll ever understand that boy. I mean, he blushes furiously at the smallest of innuendos, which are harmless little words, and yet he'll quite happily saunter around with his junk on full display like it's nothing. Fucking weirdo.

Not that I'm complaining or anything, though…

Once he's got the last of his things, he heads straight for the bathroom, flipping the light switch on and throwing me one last look over his shoulder before he disappears inside. I hear the shower blasting to life, and am sorely tempted to cram in another soothing smoke whilst the brat washes away the evidence of our latest intimacy – that is, until I hear that honeyed voice call out to me.

"You coming or what, Grimm?"

I smirk, unable to help myself as I stalk toward the bathroom, tugging my shirt off over my head as I go. "Not yet, Berry. But _you_ soon will be…"

* * *

><p>It took another hour just to drag ourselves out of our temporary love nest, a whole sixty minutes of cramming in as much fucking and heavy petting as we possibly could before the inevitable separation.<p>

During that small window of time, I had the Kurosaki brat eating tile as I pounded him in the shower, and then purring in ecstasy as I sucked him off where he had me at the start of the night – we _had_ been on our way out at that point, until Kurosaki decided to give me a steamy 'goodbye' kiss at the door, taking full advantage of the seclusion the modest room offered before we had to head out into public. I don't think I need to explain that we didn't get any further than me grasping the door handle. Before either one of us knew what was going on, I was suddenly fucking him hard up against the wall, after which we needed yet _another_ shower, and, well…I'm sure you can guess what happened there.

It was just past eight in the evening by the time we arrived back at the park around the corner from Kurosaki's apartment. I don't mind leaving him off at his door when it's early enough in the afternoon, when nosey neighbours are most likely to be out at work or school, but not so much in the evening when it's more conceivable to be noticed. Again, I'm no celebrity, but I'd rather not take the risk where I can help it.

I pulled up to the curb and killed the engine, tilting my head to face my Berry so that I could bid him farewell for now, but I found my words catching in my throat when I noticed that he was holding his head in his hands, a pained expression darkening his beautiful features. I frowned, but didn't worry too much – after all, I know he's in no _extreme _amount of pain, but rather that is more of a psychological thing.

I reach across and massage the pads of my fingers through his hair, just how he likes it, and gave him a rueful, lopsided smile. "It's gonna rain, isn't it?"

Kurosaki gave a simple nod, and, as if he'd conjured it up like magic, a single, large drop of rainwater fell noisily against the windshield. The droplet was followed in quick succession by another, and another, and another, until a whole torrent was freefalling from the greyish skies and hammering against the solid bodywork of the car.

I glanced at Kurosaki, still rubbing soothing circles into his scalp as he kneaded at his presumably throbbing temples. The kid always gets like this during heavy rainstorms, the horrid weather conditions bringing back haunting memories that are even worse. Seriously, after what he told me, I'm surprised he isn't permanently traumatised by rain full stop.

A long, emotional story short; his mother, Masaki, was killed in a pretty horrific car accident when driving a young, cherub faced Kurosaki home from karate practice. It wasn't her fault, though. She'd been stopped at a traffic light when it happened – 'it' being a heavy duty lorry that had lost control after the driver fell asleep at the wheel. Stupid fucking cunt. Masaki had little time to react and, without even thinking about her own safety, threw herself bodily over Ichigo.

Kurosaki was left sitting in the pouring rain for two hours before anybody came. The driver, and his ill-fated mother, had been killed on impact. Kurosaki was later told that if Masaki hadn't shielded him in the way that she did, he'd have been crushed for sure. Ever since that day, Kurosaki gets unbearable migraines any time it rains – as well as some pretty nasty flashbacks.

All I can say on the subject is, that douchebag driver is one lucky son-of-a-bitch, because if he'd survived and _I'd_ found him…well, lets just say he'd have _prayed_ for death.

"I'll drive ya to your door," I tell the brat as I settle back and start up the engine again.

Kurosaki, the stubborn shit that he is, shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I can walk. I know you don't like the risk of being noticed."

Heh. Kid knows me pretty well. "Haven't we already had this conversation? Don't be stupid, Ichigo. You'll get soaked walking out in _that_, even if it is only five minutes."

The brat turns to stare at me, a slight look of incredulity etched into his face, and I suddenly realise I accidentally called him by his name. It's not my fault though, he just looked so damn vulnerable and helpless…so _pathetic_, that I thought I'd throw him a bone and offer some small amount of comfort. Sue me.

"Thanks, Grimm," he mutters, the tiniest of genuine smiles pulling the corners of his mouth up.

Fuck me, he's so cute.

I deny my own smile, figuring that I'm at my limit amount of _sappy_. I can't take too much of that shit without risking indigestion. "Che, whatever. Don't get used to it, brat."

Kurosaki's smile widens even further as he settles back into his own seat. "Just drive the car, old man."

I sneer at him as he chuckles quietly to himself, but pull back out onto the road regardless. In no time at all, we're outside his apartment, the rain still pelting down from the heavens like its Noah's fucking ark or something.

"Thanks for, well, you know…" Kurosaki starts, looking quite uncomfortable.

I give him one of my signature shit-eating grins. "You mean for the incredible fuck? Sorry, that is, _fucks_…"

"You're such an asshole," the brat grouses, folding his arms. "I meant for the ride home, for bringing me to the door. I _was_ going to say that it was almost nice of you, but you've completely ruined it now with that deplorable mouth of yours."

"Funny, ya weren't complainin' about my mouth an hour ago…"

The kid blushes slightly at that, hastily averting his gaze out his window, and I have to rein myself in from attacking him. _Again_.

I'm about to say something to tease him further, just for kicks, when I hear a small gasp escape from Kurosaki, moments before he launches himself at me, meshing our mouths together rather...desperately? I arch a brow at the reaction, and I know that something's obviously up, but fuck it; I can figure it out _after_ another taste of my Berry.

I quickly take control of the contact, curling my hand around the back of his neck to pull him in close and deep, Kurosaki playing along by fisting a hand in the front of my shirt. I'm just starting to get into it, licking my tongue dominantly over its partner and threading my fingers into soft orange spikes, when a loud wrapping stops me stone-cold dead.

The first thought that enters my head is, _'Shit, I'm so fuckin' busted'_, the second being, _'What the fuck is Kurosaki playing at?'_ Here I am, having a fucking heart attack over the fact that we've just been caught macking in the front seat of my car, and the damn brat is still sucking at my face!

My bewilderment is only amplified when I forcibly remove Kurosaki from me and he hangs his head in what looks like defeat. That's when I peer past his shoulder…and see _him_ standing outside.

_Ogichi Zangetsu_, my mind supplied in a guttural snarl.

"Well, if it ain't the little Snowflake," I drawl, all of the rage and jealousy that a good few fucks had successfully quashed suddenly flaring up again.

"Thanks again for the lift, Grimm, but I really gotta get going," Kurosaki says in a rush, making a frantic reach for the door.

I speedily lock us down. "What's your hurry, Berry? Didn't I already scold you about manners, hn? You should introduce us…"

The poor kid looked like a dear in the headlights. "Uh, I really don't think that's…" The sound of the electric window on the passenger's side rolling down had him trailing off. He sighs heavily. "…a good idea."

I somewhat regretted my decision when, as soon as the window was fully down, two longs arms invaded the interior and firmly wrapped themselves around Kurosaki's shoulders. I growled lowly in my throat as they pulled until my Berry's back was up against the door, where a chin then came to rest on his left shoulder.

I was completely ignored as the albino reached an alabaster toned hand up to draw back the a black hood, revealing silver tinted snowy spikes, just an inch or so longer than the brats, his face immediately nuzzling into _my_ fucking Kurosaki.

"Yo, King," a weirdly echoic voice hummed, the sound touching much too close to an intimate sort of purr for my liking. "Missed yah. Yah know, tha' bed a'yers is much too lonely withou'cha."

I'm sorry…what in the name of fuckery was _that?_

I give the brat a condemning, accusatory glare, to which he visibly paled, but replied with a distinct look of _'You brought this on yourself.'_

"Ne Ichi, who's yer lil' friend?"

_Ichi?_ So, they've even got cutesy nicknames for each other do they?

I shifted my gaze to the albino, and was instantly captured by intense, molten gold orbs surrounded in a sea of toxic midnight black. Christ, those eyes were as hypnotic as the brats – and on a whole new level of unnerving.

"Uh, Shiro, this is Grimmjow. Grimmjow, Shiro."

I was pouring as much venom and authority into my stare as I could, but the fucking albino didn't seem deterred in the slightest. In fact, as his lips parted into a feral smirk the likes of which was rivalled only by my own, and his arms curled tighter around Kurosaki's neck in an entirely too possessive manner, I would say the alabaster skinned man was fucking _goading_ me.

"Aa. It's a pleasure ta meet'cha at long last, Grimm_jaw_. I've heard…_a lot_ about yah."

A mirthful, cackling giggle fell from the albino's mouth as he nestled his cheek into my Berry's hair, all the while those wicked eyes kept me pinned, like he was wordlessly daring me to do something about it. I could feel my inner alpha baying for blood, clawing at me to assert dominance over my pretty lover in the presence of another evident predator.

A dark grin ripped across my face, my body buzzing with life as I silently accepted the foolish Snowflake's little challenge. Kurosaki was completely oblivious to it all, but my acceptance didn't escape Ogichi's notice, and his eyes narrowed dangerously in response.

"Can't say I've heard much about you, but the feeling's more than mutual, _Snowflake_."

I could tell by the excited, glittering look in those spellbinding eyes that taking down the albino was going to be _hella fun_. Poor guy would soon come to realise that he'd gone and picked the wrong fight, that when it came to the fiery Berry _nothing_ and _no one_ could hope to stand a fucking chance against me. Just like the brat, this boy would soon learn his place and - again just like Kurosaki - that place was _beneath me_.

After all, I, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, am the rightful King around here.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh my. This chapter was a lot of fun *fans self* Hope ya'll enjoyed the lemony goodness this instalment provided.. I tried my best, promise.**

**So, Grimm babe and Shiro-sexface-saki have met, and have already declared war on one another for the rights to the delicious Strawberry. Ah, gotta love jealous competition, ne~? I know I do.**

**Anyways, I can only hope that chapter 6 has met with yer expectations, and that ya'll could derive some entertainment value from it. Just thought I'd treat all of mah faithful readers to a lil' smut before getting back into the angsty/dark stuff.**

**Dedicated in particular to: Apple, Caribou and Black Storm.**

**Please enjoy, and ciao fer now my sweets~**

**Toringtino~**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Bleach and it's characters do not belong to me - and that fact makes me cry. Often.**

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><p>Chapter Seven<p>

Okay, without a shadow of a doubt, this is _the_ most awkward, potentially dangerous situation I have ever found myself in. The tension surrounding us is so palpable, so _thick_, I can't breathe properly, and I know it's only a matter of time before something gives – or, probably more realistically, before some_one_ snaps.

I can't see Shirosaki's face, but from the way that Grimmjow's currently stabbing holes through him with a particularly icy glare, and the fact that I can feel a low, rumbling growl vibrating against my shoulder, I just know that the albino's giving it back as good as he's getting it.

Fuck me, what in the name of holy good hell have I gotten myself in the middle of?

Shirosaki's arms are curled in a tight embrace around me, the long limbs soaking through my t-shirt as the torrential rain continues its assault outside. I know if Grimmjow wasn't so clearly pissed – and in the middle of some sort of epic glowering match – that he'd be ripping my alabaster friend a new one for sullying the interior of his car. But, as I said, it would seem that the blunette is much too engaged to care about something so trivial. Go figure.

"Snowflake, ey?" Shirosaki commented, amusement evident in his echoic tone. "Hn, I ain't heard tha' one since grade school. If I remembah correctly, tha' last guy tha' called me tha' ended up breathin' through a straw…"

I only just managed to repress a shiver at the pure malice intended in that statement. Even though Shirosaki's tone was light and playful, I've known him long enough to read between the lines. He's always been like that, taking immense satisfaction out of antagonising others.

Shirosaki may look harmless enough, especially when you consider his outwardly vivacious, almost peppy demeanour. But that was undoubtedly his greatest weapon. It was like the famous Lady Macbeth quote; _'look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't'_. That's exactly what Shirosaki was; a wolf in sheep's clothing. He was a master at lulling people into a false sense of security, before dropping the guise and unleashing a whole world of pain on his unsuspecting victims.

No one ever sees it coming.

I'm not saying that I don't feel that Grimmjow can't look after himself, because I know he can. But then again, he's never met anyone quite like my oldest friend before, and I really don't want to be around if the blunette decides to officially challenge the psychotic albino. It would surely be a bloodbath of fucking grand proportions, and I refuse to play 'maiden' in the fucking middle – or clean up their mess when they're done. Fuck that shit.

Of course, Grimmjow didn't back down from the 'subtle' threat Shirosaki issued, instead a dangerous glimmer flashed through those stunning cerulean orbs and he smirked. Fucking _smirked_. Ah Christ, here we go…

"Oh really?" he drawled, his own deep baritone doing nothing to shield the dark malevolence dripping into every word. "Poor guy. Though, I always did find it exceptionally easy wailin' on snot nosed brats. Wonder how ya'd fair up against someone a little older? Y'know, someone who'd actually provide a bit of a challenge…"

I'm sorry, what? Is Grimmjow seriously provoking him into fight…right _here?_

Shit, this is getting out of hand so much quicker than I would have thought possible.

"A _lil'_ older?" Shirosaki asked in clear scepticism, making my heartbeat escalate wildly. "C'mon Grimmjaw, jus' who're yah tryin' ta fool? If I wanted ta beat on some decrepit old-timer, I'd jus' go call in on mah old man."

That's it, we're fucked. I can get away with calling Grimmjow 'old' because, well, I can make it up to him with sex – and even then it doesn't always play out that way. If even _I'm_ not exempt from the extremely fragile grasp he has on his potent fury, then you can bet that Shirosaki's about to eat fist. Possibly me as well, seeing how I'm in the way. Damn it all, I'm going to end up with a broken nose because of that fucking albino's mouth – and it wouldn't be the first time, either.

With all this in mind, you can imagine my surprise when, instead of parrying out of the way of an alabaster-skin-intended punch, I hear loud, barking laughter.

Furrowing my brow at the unexpected noise, I'm admittedly a little pissed. I mean seriously, what the fuck? If that had been me calling him old, I'd sure as hell be paying for it in some way, shape or form – whether it be dodging a blow to the face, or having a monstrous cock shoved down my throat. So why, in the name of all that is just, does fucking Shirosaki get away with it? Right now he's undeniably Grimmjow's public enemy number one, and hence should be guarding himself from a barrage of physical abuse even without the added insult.

Fucking Grimmjow and his messed up logic.

"Shit, kid," Grimmjow managed to choke out at last, his laughter dying off to small chuckles. "Ya got balls, I'll give ya that much. Still, this 'old-timer' could very easily kick your scrawny ass right into next week, so I'd watch that goddamn mouth a'yours before I smack it clean off, ne?"

I could feel Shirosaki bristling behind me, whether it was from anger or excitement I couldn't be sure, not without seeing his face at any rate. Not to say that my albino chum is a masochist or anything, but he revels in pain, and whilst fighting his motto's always been, 'the bloodier the better'. It doesn't matter if he's winning or losing, you can expect that the sadistic fucker will be having a whale of a time until the bitter end.

"Now, how's about ya be a good little albino and unhand my Berry there," Grimmjow continued, his blazing blue eyes now locked on the arms holding me tight against their owner.

I could feel Shirosaki pulling me closer in retaliation, a soft giggle pouring from pale lips. "Berry, ey? An' 'ere I thought yah hated tha' name, aibou?"

Grimmjow growled, probably for the endearing nickname so casually slipped in at the end, and I rolled my eyes. "I _do_ hate it. And that's exactly why he calls me it."

I shot a glare at Grimmjow, who simply grinned lewdly in response. "He loves it really, Snowflake. Ya just gotta use it in the right…_situation_. Like, for instance, when I'm balls deep inside of him, fuckin' 'im hard and fast into–"

"Grimmjow!" I snap, furious that I'm now blushing madly in front of my oldest friend. "Shut the fuck up, you damn prick! I'm sure Shiro doesn't want to hear any of that – and neither do I for that matter!"

Shirosaki cackled, and I just knew that the next words out of his mouth weren't going to be particularly good ones.

"Ne Ichi, there's no need ta be so embarrassed," he cooed, his mouth a little too close to my ear for comfort. "After all, I jus' so happen ta know firsthand what yah like ta hear when yer bein' pounded inta tha mattress…ain't tha' right, _King~?_"

Oh Jesus H. fucking Christ, being psychic is a goddamn curse sometimes.

I can feel my cheeks flushing even redder, the heat damn near unbearable as I drop my face into my palms. Was I a real bastard in a past life or something? Did I rape women and kill newborn babies? Because really, there is no other acceptable excuse for my life to be so fucking cruel to me.

Predictably, Grimmjow is suddenly furious, and half of that livid irritation is aimed straight at me. _So unfair_.

"Is that right," he states rather than asks. "Hn. Ya sure kept that one quiet, Kurosaki."

"It was a long time ago," I quickly defend, the suddenly ominous air within the small confines of the car crushing down around me, suffocating the oxygen in my lungs. "You know what it's like in high school, teenagers exploring their sexuality and all that jazz…"

"What did I tell ya about lame ass excuses, Berry?" Grimmjow demanded, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I don't wanna hear 'em."

"But Grimm, you don't–"

"Give tha poor man a break, aibou," Shirosaki suddenly piped up, cutting me off. "Yer gonna give 'im an aneurysm, tryin' ta make 'im remembah as far back as _high school_."

"_Shut up_," I hiss, punching awkwardly at his still drenched arm. "You're not helping."

"Tell me, Grimmjaw…" Shirosaki continued like he hadn't heard a word I said. Tch, guess it was foolish of me to even _think_ he'd listen to me. "How's it feel ta kiss these lips," he grabbed my jaw, causing my mouth to purse slightly, "knowin' tha' I was tha one who taught 'em how ta move?"

I felt my eyes bugging out of their sockets at that, whereas Grimmjow was deathly calm. I know the man pretty well, and that is definitely not a good sign. The eerie façade of tranquillity simply means that there is far too much poisonous rage flowing through his veins for him to move at the moment. And of course, Shirosaki just couldn't take the hint and keep his fucking trap shut.

"But tha' ain't all, is it aibou?" I could _hear_ the malicious smirk in his voice. "Yah may have this yieldin' lil' body all ta yerself _now_, Blue, but how it must gall yah ta know tha' it was _me_ who taught it how ta _purr_…"

It was the tiniest, most imperceptible of movements, but I caught it; a quick glimpse of Grimmjow's right eye twitching. The man was losing it.

"What, ya really thought I imagined Kurosaki some delicate little flower still holdin' onto his virginity when I met him? Don't make me laugh, Snowflake," Grimmjow snarled, the sound so bestial, so _dangerous_, it gave rise to goosebumps all over my body. "Now, don't make me repeat myself… Let. The brat. Go."

"An' if I refuse…?" came the hostile response.

Unfortunately, Grimmjow didn't miss a beat. "Then I'll _force_ you to by removin' your arms altogether."

And, just like coiling a spring too tight, I surprised us all by snapping first. There's only so much of feeling like a juicy hunk of meat caught between the jaws of two ravenous wolves I can take.

"Alright, that fucking does it!" I barked, forcibly extracting myself from Shirosaki's sodden grasp to pin both quarrelling morons with a heated scowl. "I don't know what in the hell ever gave either of you the impression, but I am _not_ some damsel in distress! If you two want to duke it out on the side of the road like a pair of dogs over a bone, then be my guest – but leave me the fuck out of it!"

There was a long moment of confounded silence, though honestly, it didn't last nearly as long as I would have liked.

"Ne aibou, there's no need ta get so angsty," Shirosaki commented loftily as he yanked his hood back up and playfully ruffled my hair. "We're jus' havin' a lil' fun!"

Grimmjow looked momentarily stunned at my outburst, before quickly gathering himself together. "Damn, Kurosaki. Way to be melodramatic."

"Melodra–" Where they fucking _kidding_ me? I grit my teeth, only just resisting the urge to strangle both men to within an inch of their fucking lives. "What the fuck ever. Move it Shiro, I'm getting out."

Grimmjow quickly grabbed my wrist, preventing me from getting far. "C'mon Kurosaki, lighten up."

"Fuck you, asshole," I retort, trying – and failing – to snatch my wrist back. "I refuse to participate in your little game of 'Ichigo tug-of-war'. You and Shiro can bicker away to your hearts content – fuck it! Beat each other to a bloody pulp for all I care! But I'm going home."

"Oi," he tugged hard on my seized wrist, sending me sprawling across the centre console. "Fine, have it your way – but I _know_ ya don't think you're gettin' away without a goodbye kiss."

I blink, astounded that he could even think about such a thing at a time like this. Then I remembered that it was Grimmjow, and that about ninety percent of his daily thinking was done by the head of his cock.

"Piss off! You got one already!"

"Actually, it's been a lot more than _one_, Berry," he smirked, his eyes darting briefly to gaze behind me.

And suddenly it all made sense. The damn dick didn't want a goodbye kiss at all, all he wanted was the opportunity to openly display his authority, to fucking dominate and lay claim to me right in front of Shirosaki, then that way there would be no questioning my _'ownership'_.

Well, if that goddamn, blue haired bastard thinks that I'm going to play into his twisted game of 'Who's Ichi's Alpha?', he's got another think coming.

"Yeah…thanks, but no thanks," I state, straightening myself back up.

"Funny, I don't remember askin' your permission." Another tug, harder this time, sees me pulled half into the smirking blunette's lap. "It wasn't a request, Kurosaki. But it's damn cute that ya thought ya had a say in the matter."

I glare at him, curling my lip. "You fuck–"

I get no further as Grimmjow descends upon me, his lips forming perfectly over my own to swallow down any protest I might have had. Quickly forgetting my anger and indignation – not to mention the fact that we have company – I find myself reluctantly melting into the smug jerk.

I can hear Grimmjow growling in approval when I part his mouth with my tongue, diving in for quick taste before his own wet muscle curls around it, forcing it back into its home as his hastily pursues it.

Damn him to hell. He does this every time, thinking he can shut me up and get his own way just because he happens to be a fucking fantastic kisser. Probably doesn't help that I let him get away with it every time because of that very fact, but oh well. A large, callused hand grips the back of my head, forcing it back so that he can lean in and deepen the contact. I don't complain.

My mind is a jumbled blur of mixing thoughts and emotions, none of which can seem to organise themselves so that I know what I'm supposed to be feeling – that is, until Grimmjow's tongue licks across the roof of my mouth, and his sharp teeth nip at my bottom lip, in which case _lust_ quickly makes itself known, squashing down all the others without much fuss.

I thread my fingers through those beautiful, electric teal locks and, even though there's a little voice in the back of my head trying desperately to attain my attention, I lean up into my lover, suddenly craving a lot more contact. Sweaty, frantic, and skin-on-skin, preferably…

"Ahem."

My whole body freezes at the none too subtle cough, and I mentally kick myself for falling straight into Grimmjow's conceited trap.

With faint blush assaulting my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, I hastily draw away from the now visibly irritated blunette. Dropping my gaze to the floor so as to avoid both sets of penetrating gazes, I hastily mumble my thanks to Grimmjow, a brief farewell to Shirosaki, and then more or less bolt from the car.

Dashing the short distance through the rain to the main lobby of my apartment building, I absentmindedly turn to wave Grimmjow off, only to witness possibly the most disturbing sight I have ever observed – _Shirosaki clambering into Grimmjow's car._

My eyes widen comically when, instead of seeing Shirosaki forcibly tackled from said vehicle, the car simply pulls away and disappears down the street.

Okay, what the hell?

Fearing that I'm going to have to check the news tomorrow for the cold-blooded murder of hotshot model Ogichi Zangetsu, or psychotic slaughter of business tycoon Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, I merely shake my head in exasperation and make my way upstairs. If anything, I'm going to need at least a good nights sleep if I'm ever going to look presentable enough to stand up in court…

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><p>I didn't see nor hear from either Grimmjow or Shirosaki until late afternoon on Friday, which was worrying to say the least. Not so much in Grimmjow's case, because I know he's a busy man and has a wife at home to keep complacent. I am 'the bit on the side' after all, and, no matter how much I'd like to believe otherwise, I'll always come second to the man's actual life. To be perfectly honest, I was somewhat surprised I got to see the blue haired demon two days in a row like I did. We're usually lucky if we manage once a week, let alone two days consecutively. Hn, maybe I should make the man jealous more often…<p>

Shirosaki on the other hand, I was shocked he wasn't round here damn near every day, like I assumed he would be. In a way, I was a little miffed he didn't show his alabaster face, but I have to remember that he's a busy guy too. He's probably off getting trashed at glitzy parties and waking up with all kinds of beautiful strangers in high-priced hotels. Che, lucky prick. I really shouldn't be offended that I'm being ditched for a fast life of champagne, glamour and one night stands, but I can't help it. He's my oldest friend, dammit! If anyone should be monopolising his time and attention whilst he's got it, then that individual should be me!

Ah great. Now I sound like a needy, neglected girlfriend. How wonderful.

I'd guess it to be around four in the afternoon as I jump in the shower. I had one this morning before my morning class, but with a severe lack of anything better to do, another one couldn't hurt. Renji has actually decided to act like a normal, earth dwelling being for once, and has taken Rukia out on a date. I know, I was flabbergasted too. They came home briefly to change – well, more so Renji, as one can expect to find the redhead covered in grease and oil stains at any time of the day due to his mechanics course – and ever since their departure, I have been bored out of my freaking tree.

After such a hectic start to the week, the remainder of it has been so disappointingly mundane. Uni was normal – well, _after_ Shihōin-sensei threatened that if I missed another one of her classes she'd make sure Urahara made us wear booty shorts to work…_again_ – and hence, after much pleading not to do something so unbelievably cruel, work was normal too. Everything has been so achingly routine that I find taking two showers in one day to be something of a welcomed change. Sad, I know…

As the hot water torrents down over my body, quickly warming my skin and making me want to moan out loud in relaxation, I fail to notice the sound of the bathroom door opening. I didn't lock it, because no one else was in, and I certainly wasn't expecting anyone. So when a cold hand suddenly caresses up my back, I can do nothing to hold back my startled, rather emasculating yelp.

Without a second's hesitation, I quickly pivot and throw out my right fist. Fuck the fact that I'm completely naked and soaking wet, if some perverted fucker wants to try and take me on in my own home, then you'd better believe I'm going to give it all I've got – clothes or no.

My fist, however, is promptly caught by a milky hand, inches from embedding into a smooth as marble jaw. My own jaw slackens at the sight I'm faced with – which just so happens to be a very giggly, very _nude_, Shirosaki.

"Ey, aibou. Tha' any way ta greet yer dearest friend?"

"'Dearest friend' my ass! You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!" I splutter, trying my damnedest to keep the embarrassed heat I can feel rising in my neck from pooling in my cheeks. "What the hell do you think you're doing, anyway? I'm trying to take a shower here!"

Shirosaki grinned, making a show of roving his eyes over my equally nude form. "Aye, I can see tha'…"

I set my jaw and promptly turned my back on him. "Good. Now piss off."

"Awh, don' be like tha', Ichi. I've missed yah," the albino simpered, draping his arms over my shoulders so that he was pressed flush against me. I swallowed hard, willing my blood flow to stay its regular course. "I called out ta yah, but yah didn't answer. Then, when I heard tha shower goin', I thought I'd make up fer not bein' around more by jus' joinin' yah."

"What have you been doing, anyway?" I ask, trying to distract myself from the fact that we're moulded so intimately together.

"Meh, nuthin' an' no one of any importance," Shirosaki replied, his tone bored and indifferent. He nuzzled his face into my sodden hair and pulled me closer. "Why? Did'ja miss me too, King? There's no need ta be so bashful, aibou, yah can jus' come right out an' tell me~"

"Fuck off," I retort, but with no real heat behind my words. "I actually thought you might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere after I saw you get into Grimm's car."

"Pfft, don't make me laugh," he stated haughtily, nipping at the shell of my ear in what I'm sure was supposed to be a reprimand. "We jus' had a lil'…_chat_, ta establish some ground rules. Tha's all. Ol' Blue may think he's a big, bad tiger, but 'e ain't nuthin' more than a harmless lil' kitten with a sour attitude."

"Grimmjow? A _kitten?_" I ask incredulously, tilting my head back to look at him. "Are you sure we're talking about the same man here?"

"Heh, yer so cute Ichi," Shirosaki dismissed, softly kissing my neck. "Pass me tha body wash there, aibou."

I did as I was told, cringing when I noticed that it was strawberries and cream scented. Predictably, Shirosaki giggled, but thankfully didn't comment as he popped the cap and poured the sweet smelling lotion into his hands. I hummed in contentment as he began massaging it into my shoulders, his talented fingers kneading into my skin and working the soap into a thick lather. It's amazing how quickly you forget you're in an awkward position when your body feels like its slowly liquefying.

"Y'know, Ichi," Shirosaki purred, his hands slowly working down my back. "Yah never did tell me jus' how you an' yer lil' blue haired kitty came ta be. Y'always said it was too long a story… Well I've got tha time now, if yah'd care ta enlighten me?"

I tried my best to stay focused enough to hear what he was saying, but it was damn hard what with the warm water of the shower caressing down my front and Shirosaki's frankly _wonderful_ hands rubbing the kinks from my back. I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed – without needing a good, hard fuck first, that is.

"Me and Grimm?" I mumble, my words coming out a little more breathy than I'd care for.

Shirosaki chuckled, his hands now ghosting over my hips, rubbing small circles over the protruding bones before trailing over my abdomen. I could only hum in encouragement. "Aye, you an' Grimmjaw."

I frowned, bringing up something that had been bugging me for a while. "It's pronounced _jow_, Shi, not _jaw_."

"Maa, don' yah start on me an' all," the albino groused, his fingers pinching my midriff, making me wince. "Yer precious kitten's already told me off fer it, but I can't help it. Jus' rolls off my tongue tha' way." When a hot tongue laved against the nape of my neck as if to emphasise his point, I fought tooth and nail not to moan out loud. "Now, tell me tha story, aibou. I wanna know jus' how ol' Blue managed ta sink 'is devious talons inta mah innocent lil' Ichi-King."

Ignoring the insulting comment of my apparent 'innocence', I shrug. "I don't know why you wanna know so bad, but if it'll get you off my back, then fine, I guess I'll tell you."

"An' 'ere I thought yah liked me on yer back," Shirosaki purred, amusement evident in his echoy voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha, ha. You're so fucking funny, Shi… Just shut up and listen."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Friday <strong>__**August 14**__**th**__**, 2008, Vizards, 11:17PM**_

I don't think I'll ever forget the day that I first saw him. I don't want to say that I'll _never_ forget, because a) it sounds so fucking cliché it makes me cringe, and b) you never know, I could get hit by a bus in the near future and contract amnesia. Highly unlikely – I hope – but entirely possible. God seems to like to fuck with me that way.

It was his eyes. Such a stunning shade of blue I wasn't aware anyone could possibly possess in the real world, captivating right from the get go. They were boring holes right through to the centre of my soul before I'd even clocked the man myself. Admittedly, his hair kind of did it for me too, what with it being so freakishly outlandish. _Electric teal_ – what a sight. It reminded me so much of my own gawk-worthy tresses, and I couldn't help but wonder if it had gotten him into as much trouble as mine did when he was growing up. Maybe that's what gave him those hard edges to that gorgeously handsome face, what made the muscles in his arms – which are out on full display thanks to the black muscle shirt he's wearing – so thick and powerful? Who knows? Not me, that's for sure.

But that doesn't mean I'm not determined to find out.

As I get up from my table, abandoning my friends – like they even care they're that wasted – I'm surprised to see that the blue haired Adonis is apparently all alone, which by all accounts is just plain weird. I mean, even if he came here by himself, surely he should be beating flocks of admirers off with a sharp, at _least_ ten foot pole.

This makes me hesitate slightly in approaching him. Did I miss something? I don't see any gang tattoos, or delinquent style piercings, and he certainly isn't giving off any dangerous vibes. That is, dangerous as in 'potential serial killer', because the look he's giving me right now is certainly on the bestial side of perilous. It doesn't intimidate me though, like I think he may have intended it too. Instead, it sends a shiver of anticipation throughout my veins, like taking a bullet at point blank. If anything, that feral look in those stunning cerulean blue eyes is only drawing me in faster.

By the time I'm standing in front of him, he'd swivelled in his stool so that he was facing me, his elbows resting behind him on the bar. He looked so relaxed and at ease, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth and his eyes glittering with promise that I was all too eager to discover. He was dressed rather casually, in dark denim bootcut jeans, his plain black t-shirt that hugged him like a second skin, and a pair of black Timberland boots. I guess I was geared up rather plainly too, in purple skinnies, a powder blue shirt and white Doc Martens. But fuck it all if he didn't make 'casual' look so damn _edible_.

"Hey cutie," were the first words out of that sinful mouth, practically purred on a low baritone. I hate to admit it, but it made my knees a little weak. "Ya see somethin' ya like?"

"I should be asking _you_ that," I scoff, folding my arms. He quirks a brow and I return the smirk. "You're the one who's been staring holes through the back of _my_ head for the past half hour, not the other way around."

His lips pull up further, revealing beautifully white teeth with intriguingly pointed canines. "Can't argue with that. Must a'been that bleached mop ya got there. Kind'a hard _not_ to stare at it."

I narrow my eyes, a well rehearsed phrase issuing forth before I can stop it. "It's completely natural, asshole. And if you're not careful, I'll fucking prove it."

I watch as his own eyes narrow to match mine, only his are in direct challenge. "Better watch what ya say, brat. Some people may take that as an invitation."

"People like you?" I ask, without really knowing why.

He doesn't say a word, but then again he doesn't have to, that wicked smile said it all; _'People _exactly_ like me…' _I disguise a pleasant shudder with a roll of the shoulders, though I'm pretty certain he caught it anyway.

"Got a name, kid?"

"Well it sure ain't 'kid'," I chide, hoping that it sounded as scolding as I had intended. "It's Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki."

The blunette blinked, his thin, blue tinted brows rising. "Your parents named ya 'Strawberry'? Isn't that a girl's name?"

I clench my jaw, biting back a groan of exasperation. You'd think that I'd be well used to the whole hair and name calling thing by now, what with the two haunting me the whole way through high school. But honestly? It never fails to hit a nerve.

"A girl's name?" I reiterate, gesturing to my front. "Do you see any tits?"

He took the offered opportunity to let his gaze prowl over my form. It was brief, maybe five, six seconds tops, but it was so…_heated_, and predatory, I could feel blood rushing to pool in my cheeks. It _would_ be my luck that he noticed.

"Heh, don't see any tits, but I gotta say…" He licked his lips, my eyes immediately focusing on the purely erotic movement. "…that beautiful blush a'yours sure makes ya look delicious, _Berry_…"

I could feel my lips curling at the mention of that cursed nickname, even in spite of the pleasurable twitch my cock gave at the way it rolled off of the other man's tongue. It causes my blush to spread like wildfire, infecting my neck and the tips of my ears, and that damn bastard does nothing but fucking smirk, like he's King of the fucking world.

I quickly decide that coming over here perhaps wasn't the best of ideas, not if my manly ego is going to suffer for it. The man before me may be the hottest thing to grace the earth since Gerard Butler – _purr_ – but an asshole's still an asshole.

I turn on my heel, preparing to leave the man where he belongs – which is miles behind me – but a large hand seizing my wrist stops me in place. I glance over my shoulder, and have to swallow thickly at the sight that greets me. Alluring blue orbs shining with a whole flurry of emotion, and a small, but completely genuine smile. Both beckon me in with such ease that I ignore the little warning flag popping up in my head.

"Don't be so touchy, kid," the man tells me, gesturing to the seat beside him with a nod. "Sit. Drink with me."

How could I possibly say no?

I do so wordlessly as the blunette captures the barman's attention. A tall, sturdily built man with silver hair and a silver hoop through his left eyebrow approaches, leaning both hands on the bar as he speaks. "Whaddya want?"

"Gimme a Jack sour," the blunette ordered, before both men looked expectantly at me. "And for the titless Berry?"

I scowled, but shrugged. "Whatever. I'm easy."

The grin splitting the Adonis' face was spine-tingling seductive. "Well, if they aren't two of my favourite words." He turned back to the bartender. "Better make that two."

"Thanks Kensei," I add, the two of us nodding at one another before he moved off to prepare the drinks.

"He a friend of yours?" the blunette asks once Kensei is out of earshot.

I choose to ignore the fact that he sounded almost resentful. "No. Well, not really." When the Adonis frowned, confused, I sigh and elaborate. "I know the manager, he and my father go way back. Hence I know most of the bar staff here. Good thing, too, otherwise I'd never even get in."

"Wait, so you're a minor?"

I nod, giving the blue haired man a sly grin. "Nineteen."

"Ichigo, you idiot," Kensei scorned, suddenly appearing in front of us to deposit our drinks. "Careful how loud you go blabbin' stuff like that."

I shrug, not in the least bit phased. "Like Urahara would ever kick me out. I'd like to see that wannabe pervert even try."

Kensei simply rolled his eyes before stalking off once more, leaving me and the blunette alone. Well, inasmuch as anyone can be 'alone' in a packed out nightclub.

"So, what's a kid like you doin' here in the first place?" Adonis asks me, taking a long pull of his drink. "Tryin' to grow up before your time, like all little teenyboppers these days?"

"'Teenyboppers'?" I retort, fighting to hold back a chuckle. "Way to sound like my gramps."

The blunette scowled and, if I heard correctly, growled. "Fuck off, brat. I'm only twenty-seven."

"Twenty-_seven_?" My eyes widen significantly at that. Okay yes, I'd expected him to be older than me, but I was guessing around twenty-two – _three_, max. "Yikes. Shouldn't you be at home, wearing your slippers and, I dunno, sipping on warm milk or something?"

"Watch your tongue, _boy_, before I teach ya how to use it properly." I think he may have meant that as some form of threat, but instead I found my head instantly cramming full of all the wonderfully sinful images of exactly what he could 'teach' me. "Now answer the damn question, Kurosaki."

I'm not entirely sure why I feel the compulsion to do as he tells me. Maybe it's the alcohol streaming through my system, or the fact that he's so gorgeous it makes me feel a little self-conscious. Either way, I find myself answering him with due haste.

"I'm here with my friends." I point a finger over my shoulder to the table I'd deserted in favour of his company. It showed a few of my high school pals; Keigo, who was pissed off his ass and whining away about something or other to a relatively sober Mizuiro, who in turn was completely ignoring him and happily texting away on his mobile. Renji and Rukia were there too, sitting beside one another, stealing longing looks and subtle caresses – and making everyone around them frustrated as hell for not sucking it up and sucking face already. They're going to end up together _eventually_, and everyone fucking knew it, but both are far too stubborn to make the first move. _Dolts_.

Orihime and Tatsuki are somewhere within the vicinity, but Christ only knows where. Probably off making out on the dance floor, giving every damn bloke in the place a raging hard on – as per usual.

"Hn. They seem like an…_interestin'_ bunch."

I can only nod. "You could say that… We're all out celebrating our college acceptances, so I guess they're all letting loose more than usual." I quickly scan the myriad of sweaty bodies out on the dance floor, shrugging when I draw a blank for what I sought. "There's a pair of lesbians around here, too. Fuck if I know where, though."

The blunette actually looks impressed, which for some reason makes me smile. "Celebrating, huh? Well, what a coincidence."

"Oh, and what are you celebrating? Your midlife crisis?"

I can't help but chuckle when the Adonis glares at me. God, it's almost too easy to get a rise out of him. "Shut the fuck up about my age, Berry, or else I'm gonna have to show ya just how young this body is…"

Okay, now I know I must be at least a little tipsy, because the next word out of my mouth just so happens to be, "Promise?"

The blunette looked as shocked as I felt, before a slow, toothy grin curved his lips in the most delectable kind of way. He looks like he wants to taste me, and, with the way my heart's racing and my skin's burning, I'm thinking I wouldn't exactly hate that. Not in the slightest.

He leans forward suddenly, cupping a hand around the back of my neck to pull me forward. His lips are suddenly right by my ear, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh and causing my eyelids to flutter closed.

"I'll do a lot more than promise ya, _Ichigo_…" he purred, his sharp teeth nipping at the shell of my ear.

Ah shit. The way my name sounds when it pours from his lips is like listening to dark, velvety sin, and it's turning me the fuck on. I'm thinking that I could very easily get used to hearing him say it, but whether that's a good or bad thing, I've yet to figure out.

This particular thought brought to light something that had previously slipped my mind, and I turned a frown on the man beside me.

"You still haven't told me your name," I state, doing my utmost to stop myself from mentally undressing him as we draw apart.

He simply smirks. "That so? Well, ya don't need to concern yourself with that." He cast me a sidelong glance, that smug grin turning feral. "Not _yet_, at any rate."

I cock a brow. Well, that sounded ominous…

_**11:56PM**_

Large, callused hands roam a sensual path from my chest down to my abdomen, before dipping under the hem of my shirt and rubbing small circles over my hipbones. I let my head fall back onto a broad shoulder, humming as I throw my arms behind my head, my fingers delving into surprisingly silky teal locks. A sultry breath fans over my neck moments before lips are pressed against it, a wanton moan bubbling for release in my chest as that hot mouth begins to suck at my heated flesh.

I tug hard on the man's hair, his growl vibrating through my back as he practically melds himself into me, one hand abandoning my hip so that he can grip my throat and tilt my head, allowing him better access to the spot he seems determined to suck right off.

There are people all around us, the loud, pumping music absolutely deafening as we all bump and grind on the dance floor. But I can't say that I'm really paying attention to any of that. Apart from the fact that my body is reacting to the fast paced rhythm of the song like its second nature, the rest of the place may as well be one giant, black void. All my hazy brain can register is the insistent kisses being lavished over my skin, the rough hands gripping me tight and holding me prisoner against what I can feel to be a well toned body. And I'm definitely not complaining.

I roll my hips back into the blunette's groin, barely stifling a groan when I encounter the man's very apparent arousal. Sharp teeth nip at my throat in what I can only surmise is approval, so I do it again.

"Fuck," the blunette growls close to my ear, making my own rock hard cock throb in excitement at the sexy sound.

Both hands drop to my hips then, pulling my ass back at the same time his hips grind forward. A hot, wet tongue laves at the nape of my neck and I swear, if the man wasn't holding me so tight, I would have made intimate contact with the floor in the form of a face-plant. I'm only glad that the music is as loud as it is, because I sound so incredibly fucking needy right now that it's actually bruising my pride.

"The name's Grimmjow, by the way," the blunette suddenly informs me before his tongue is back in action, licking just under my ear. Who'd have thought that such a random spot could feel so damn good?

"You're telling me this _now?_" is my bewildered response, my words spoken loud enough for him to hear me.

I feel him, _Grimmjow_, chuckle against me. "Trust me, Berry…you're gonna need to know it…"

Hn. Now _that_ sounds even more ominous than last time…

_**12:24AM**_

"_Nngn_, shit…_Grimmjow_…"

"Shush, Berry. You're gonna get us caught before we even get to the good part…"

Shush? Fucking _shush?_ That's easy for him to say! He's not the one with a hot mouth sucking on his pulse point whilst wicked fingers knead at his backside…

If I were even a little more sober than I am right now, I'd probably be mortified to think of myself doing something as base and sordid as getting off with another man in a public restroom. And not just any other man, but a complete stranger. I've never been one to shy away from what it is that I want, whether material or otherwise, and this man, this Grimmjow character, is no exception to the rule. But that doesn't mean I'm used to being so…well, _slutty_. Christ, we've only just met and I can already tell that this blue haired demon is going to be the sole cause of my untimely demise.

The distinct sound of my belt buckle chinking has my breath hitching and my hands flying down from their position around a corded neck to capture large wrists. I'm met with a rumbling growl that has my already uncomfortable hard on twitching.

"The fuck're ya doin', Kurosaki?" Grimmjow demands of me, those captivating pools flashing with a dark flame to match an equally dark scowl.

Dropping my legs from around his waist, I hop down from my position propped up on the edge of one of the sinks. I don't miss the heated glare aimed in my direction as I work on fastening my loosened belt.

"We can't do this. Not _here_. Why don't we bail out and catch a cab back to mine, or yours if you'd prefer?"

"My place won't work," he said flatly, his gaze averting off to the side with a look I couldn't quite decipher before suddenly snapping back to mine. "And anyway, that shit'd take too long. I'm horny _now_, Kurosaki, and ya've got no one to blame but yourself fer that."

Before I could even think to say a single word in my defence, I was forcibly yanked into another searing kiss, his lips hungry and adamant against my own, leaving no room for debate on which direction the older man wanted to take the encounter. I might have complained had I the full use of my vocal cords, but I can't be entirely sure.

The drunken ramblings and none too graceful footfalls of other punters approaching had me trying to break the heated contact, but muscular arms just tightened around me further, moulding me against a sinfully taut body as I was half carried, half dragged into one of the cubicles behind us. The door wasn't locked even a split second before my back was rammed up against it, all words of protest building up in my lungs instantly doused by a slick, moist tongue delving into my mouth. Trying my damndest not to mewl like a cat in heat, I accepted the muscle eagerly, sucking it into a hot entanglement with my own just as the bathroom door swung open, letting a loud bassline filter in until it clicked shut again.

"…And they're _real_. She lemme squeeze 'em an' everythin', just to prove it."

"There's no fuckin' way. Nobody has tits the size of fucking _beach balls_. Not natural ones, at any rate."

"But she told me they were real!"

"Yeah, and he also told ya she was a natural blonde. Both are bullshit."

"Awwwh man…"

I rolled my eyes, even behind my closed lids. Damn, I really, _really_ hope I don't sound so completely brainless when I've had one too many. The sound of the two men relieving themselves had me wrinkling my nose. I never would have thought, in my life, that I could find myself getting irrevocably turned on whilst simultaneously listening to someone piss. But there you have it.

Cool fingers work their way under the hem of my shirt to dance nimbly over my heated skin, deftly working their way up over my torso and hiking the material up with them. Sharp teeth nip at the shell of my ear, making my legs tremble and a strangled moan bubble up in my chest.

"Don't scream, kid," Grimmjow tells me in a sultry whisper, and I have only a few scant seconds to consider what he means by that before my left nipple is encased in moist warmth.

Biting back an emasculating moan, I throw my head back, wincing when it collides heavily with the wooden door as Grimmjow laves his tongue over the pebbled nub. My right hand flies up to cover my mouth to avoid any further humiliatingly wanton noises from spilling out, whilst my left curls into messy blue waves. I tug at his hair out of instinct, and am rewarded with a particularly sexy growl and a subtle scrape of teeth over the sensitive flesh of the first nipple's twin.

I vaguely register the sound of the two other bathroom occupants leaving in a flurry of drunken garbles and pulsing music, and take the opportunity to turn the tables. Maybe it was the danger factor, the risk of being discovered and shamed, or maybe it was as simple as the older man being so incredibly fucking hot, but whatever the reason, I was beyond aroused at this point – and absolutely determined to get off before the night is out.

Pushing hard at the man's shoulders, I smirk when he's caught off guard enough to stumble back, falling with a grunt on the – thankfully – closed toilet seat. A cold glower is set upon me, but it doesn't last long when I suddenly drop to my knees in front of him. I can only thank Christ at this point that the floor is clean. A thin blue brow cocks up when I position myself between his spread thighs, accompanied by a wide, toothy grin that does all kinds of wonderful things to my insides as I reach to undo his belt.

"Heh. Ya gonna blow me, Kurosaki?" he asks in a husky tone, his enthusiasm evident.

Before I can reply, yet more punters stumble into the restroom, spouting more gibberish about various women and how they're starving for kebabs. Ignoring them in favour of the man practically raping me with his eyes, I force myself to show no fear as I reach into his now unfastened jeans.

My eyes widen slightly at the weighty feel of the blunette's member, before damn near bugging out of their sockets when I manage to get the monster fully unleashed. It seems unfair to me that one could be so ethereally good looking _and_ so ridiculously well endowed. I just know that somewhere out there in the world, there's some poor sod who's not only unjustly unattractive, but has a tiny dick to boot – and all because this pompous jackass just had to have both.

Sucking the corner of my lip into my mouth to nibble pensively on, I'm met with a rumbling growl and gorgeous cerulean orbs darkened with desire. Grimmjow fisted a hand in my hair, bending to my ear to issue his dare.

"What's the matter, Berry? Not backin' out now, are ya?"

A wide, impish smirk tugged at my lips, and I answered with a simple, "Don't scream, _Grimmjow_…"

_**12:58AM**_

Checking that the coast was clear, I make my way out of the bathroom cubicle, followed closely by the blunette who was still in the process of buckling his belt. I can only grimace at the sharp pain shooting through my backside and lower back, as well as the rather disturbing feeling of Grimmjow's still warm seed seeping from, _ugh_, inside me.

Strong, tanned arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me into a muscular chest, and I can't help but inhale deeply at the intoxicating aroma of the older man as he nuzzles his face into the nape of my neck. The smell of sex and sweat is clinging tightly to both our bodies, and I can feel him taking a deep breath of it too as he buries his nose into my dampened tresses. I'm not too sure as to why, but I find myself practically melting into the man's embrace as lips press in a strangely tender kiss on the back of my neck. A soft sigh escapes my lips, and I can feel him grinning against my skin. The whole atmosphere is oddly content and relaxed for what just went down, like the two of us were long-term lovers too impatient to wait until they got home to make love, rather than complete strangers just out for a hard, fast fuck in the nearest available space. It was…oddly nice, and god knows how long we might've stood there like that had we not been interrupted, but, as is the story of my life, the bliss wasn't to last long.

When the bathroom door slammed open, and a freakishly tall man with shoulder length raven hair and sporting a white bandana over his left eye stormed in, I tried to jump out of the blunette's arms, only to find myself restrained once again.

"There the fuck ya're!" the raven haired male exclaimed, and, I have to admit, I was very relived to find out he was addressing Grimmjow. "Tha fuck, Blue! We've been lookin' fer yer sorry hide fer the better part of an hour!"

Grimmjow snorted. "Yeah, well…I've been busy, Nnoitra."

"I can see that…" the other retorted, his one visible, steel grey eye zeroing in on the arms still curled around my midsection.

I felt violated as that stormy orb began a slow ascent up the rest of my body, shuddering slightly when it landed on my gaze. Luckily, Grimmjow broke the unwanted contact with a low, throaty rumble, causing Nnoitra to refocus his attention on him. I gladly would have kissed the blunette for the small gesture, if I didn't feel that the situation was already awkward enough.

"Well, I hope ya got yer dick wet enough, 'cause the rest of us are ready to bounce," Nnoitra announced, folding thin arms across a narrow chest. "C'mon Blue, we've wasted enough time in this shithole, it's time to hit the strip joint. After all, what's a bachelor party without strippers?"

Okay, wait. Back it up. _Bachelor_ _party?_

Turning wide, ochre eyes on the man in question, I find my jaw clenching at his overly indifferent attitude. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Just gimme a sec here. I'll be right out."

I couldn't quite believe just how quickly my emotions could pull a one-eighty, how one man could make me feel on top of the world one moment, and then wrench the glorious feeling of euphoria right out from under my feet the next. And, as he turned to me after the departure of his toothpick reminiscent friend, taking one of those Sharpie pens from his pocket to scribble across my forearm, it was blatantly obvious that he didn't give a flying fuck about what he'd just done.

After realising he was scrawling his mobile number on my skin, I snatched my arm away from him, the last number leaving a long, unnecessary trail down my arm. "You're getting _married?_" I seethed, pinning him with a deadly glare. "Okay, maybe it's just me, but that's the kind of thing I'd start an initial conversation off with, y'know like; 'Hey, the name's Grimmjow. I'm twenty-seven, have natural blue hair, and…oh yeah – I'm _engaged!_' Fuck my life!"

"The hell ya gettin' so bent outta shape for? I told ya I was out celebratin', didn't I?"

"You can't be serious?" I deadpanned, my fingers curling into fists that were now quivering with a very foreign, and entirely horrid sensation. "You…I…we just _fucked_, Grimmjow! How can you stand there and act like this isn't a big deal? What about your fiancé? Don't you care?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes at me, like I was some bratty little kid ranting about getting no dessert after dinner. It was pissing me the hell off.

"It's...complicated. And besides, it's not like she'll ever find out, so where's the harm?" he stated coolly, those cerulean pools showing no glimmer of remorse for his actions. How was it that I was more upset about this than he was? It was so fucked up I was getting a migraine. "Ya know, am hearin' an awful lot of complainin' where I should be hearin' gratitude. I just rocked your world, Kurosaki, so how's about ya stop all yer goddamn bitchin' and jus' thank me al–"

I cut him off with a jarring right hook square in that cocky mouth of his. He stumbled back, caught completely off guard by the spontaneous action, and for the longest moment I stood in anticipation of his reaction. I can't remember the last time I was this fucking livid. How dare he! How could he do that to me, to his _fiancée_, and not even bat an eyelid?

Bringing the back of his right hand up to his mouth, I saw his eyes flashing menacingly when he drew it back only to catch sight of his own blood staining the tanned flesh. His tongue poked out, swiping across his bottom lip where I'd split it open. I found myself swallowing hard. I mean, it's not like the guy is by any means small, in height _or_ stature, and I'm pretty sure if something kicks off – whilst confident I'll be able to hold my own and inflict some serious damage – he'll bloody me up right and proper. So when a slow smirk pulls at his lips and he chuckles, I blink, dumbfounded.

"Shit, kid," he laughs, wincing as he runs the pad of his thumb across his abused lip. "Ya sure got a fiery spirit. If you're not careful, I could really fall for you."

I straightened up, my lip curling. "Too bad the feeling's not mutual, jerk-off."

His smirk broadened, showing off those sharp canines. "Call me, Kurosaki. Next weeks no good for obvious reasons, but I'll be back from my honeymoon on the twenty-seventh. Hit me up then."

"Bastard," I spat, my fury spiking at the mere mention of 'honeymoon'. "I'm never going to call a scumbag like you, so you can just forget it! People like you make me sick. I hope you get what's coming to you."

In the blink of an eye, Grimmjow had me pinned to the wall behind me, one hand balled up in my shirt and the other planted beside my head. I glared up at him as he grinned down on me, absolutely _despising_ myself for still finding him so incredibly beautiful even given the recent turn of events.

"You an' me both, _Ichigo_," he breathed into my ear before sealing his lips over my own in one final, bloodstained kiss.

I watched him leave the restroom in that arrogant swagger of his, the door clicking softly behind his retreating figure. My brows were creased in a deep scowl and my eyes wide in bewilderment as a tornado of warring emotions whirled through my head. Dropping my gaze to the spider-scrawl jotted across my forearm, I sneered and made my way over to the sink. Procuring some liquid soap from the dispenser, I quickly made up a lather under the tap and held my hand over the offensive, sharp black numbers, ready to scrub my skin red-raw.

And then, as if my body was deliberately out to betray me, I froze, my hand simply hovering millimetres above making contact. Little blobs of suds dripped down onto the ink, and I could only watch as the pinky colour of the soap bled with the black and began to run down my arm.

I grit my teeth so hard it hurt. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ The bastard's a total prick! Rude, conceited, dishonest, immoral, debauched, and every other negative adjective one could think of…

…so then _why_, in the name of all that is holy, am I currently punching the damned demon's number into my mobile and slipping it back into my pocket? I'm playing with fire here, and I know it all too well. But, whether I'm man enough to admit it or not, I've had a taste of pure, unadulterated sin tonight – and it wasn't nearly sufficient enough to quell my rapidly burning appetite. Just like the forbidden fruit, I want it because I _shouldn't_ want it.

Sighing heavily, I make my way back to my friends with only one thing on my mind; _I'm so completely and utterly screwed._

Little did I know, it wasn't _ever_ going to be enough.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present<strong>_

"…and the rest is history, I guess." I finish my long, and admittedly quite emotional, recap of events with a small shrug.

During the length of the tale, Shirosaki had finished washing me down – or, more accurately, discreetly _molesting_ me – and I was now returning the favour. Not that I was molesting him or anything. Well, not _much_. He was facing me as I massaged the powerfully sweet soap into his chest, his gold-on-obsidian eyes watching me with an emotion I couldn't quite figure out. A slight frown was furrowing his brows, and caused a sympathetic one to pull my own together.

"Shi?" I ask, my hands pausing on firm pectorals. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

He simply continued to stare, those hypnotic eyes scanning my face like he was trying to extract hidden information from it. I could feel my scowl etching deeper at the uncomfortable attention I was receiving, and opened my mouth to snap at him to stop staring already, but he beat me to it.

"Yah love 'im, don't'cha King?" he asked suddenly, his words holding so much conviction that the question sounded more like a statement.

I quickly drop my gaze and snort, picking up where I'd left off in washing him just to avoid those penetrating orbs. "I would have thought that much was obvious. I mean, why else would I be still be seeing him if I didn't?"

"Tha's not what I meant, Ichigo," he stated, grabbing my wrists to stop my hands and pin them against his chest. I gave him a quizzical look and his frown lessened fractionally. "Anybody can _love_, aibou, tha' much is easy. But what you've got is somethin' much deeper than tha'… It's so obvious in tha way tha' yah talk about 'im, even tha way yah look at 'im. This ain't jus' love, King, is it?"

I avert my gaze off to the side and huff. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure yah do," Shirosaki countered, pulling me close. "An' I can prove it."

"Huh? What are you–"

Shirosaki silenced me with his lips, one milky hand cupping my face whilst the other wrapped tight around my waist. My own hands, which were still against his chest, slid up to curl around his neck. In spite of the fact that we were both totally naked and enticingly wet, the kiss was surprising soft, gentle, and completely devoid of any demand. There was no battle for dominance, our tongues tangling together almost languidly as they met each other halfway, neither of us fighting to push the other back.

The contact between us was so tender, so leisurely, that I wasn't entirely sure what to do with myself. I mean, I'm used to _Grimmjow_, and he's never been one to take things slowly, is always pushing me harder and harder until I have choice but to submit, lest I find myself drowning instead.

When Shirosaki finally drew back, I could only blink dazedly up at his smiling face. "Wha…What was that all about?"

"I was jus' verifyin' somethin' ta maself," he replied, petting his fingers through my damp, orange tresses. "Tell me Ichi, 'ave yah told Grimmjaw how yah feel?"

"Uh, no…" I untangle my arms from around his neck to scratch at the back of my head. "But he never has been one for all of that romantic crap. I'd feel like an idiot saying it, he wouldn't want to hear it, and I'm happy enough with that."

Shirosaki nodded. "Aa. I thought as much. He doesn't deserve yah, y'know tha', right?"

"I hear that a lot, actually," I chuckled without emotion. "But what can I say? We just…work, Grimm and I. Our relationship is complicated enough as it is, without the added burden of a whole mess of unnecessary emotional crap dumped on top of it. That's a headache we could both do without, thanks."

Shirosaki blinked a few times, his mesmerizing gaze set like stone upon my own, and then, "…Yer such an idiot."

"Wha–!" I splutter indignantly.

"Che, jus' look at'cha, Ichigo. I leave yah fer a few years, an' what happens? Yah turn inta somebody's bitch." I glower, fully prepared to argue my case, but Shirosaki cut me off by fisting a hand in my hair. "It's _unacceptable_, Ichigo. I will not have a King tha's _weaker_ than I am, d'ya hear me? It can't work tha' way, an' I refuse ta carry a fool who's only goin' ta lead himself to tha slaughter."

I grit my teeth, not trusting myself to speak under the careful watch of those molten gold orbs. After a lengthy moment of intense scrutiny, Shirosaki seems to find what he's looking for and suddenly relaxes his hold, gently threading his fingers through the sodden strands instead.

"One way or another, aibou, order _will_ be restored. At tha end of mah time here, yah _will_ right tha wrong yah've created."

"Fuck you, Shiro," I grouse, smacking his hand away from me. "You can't tell me what to do, we're not little kids anymore."

"Don't force my hand, _King_," was the icy reply as the albino advanced, forcing me to take a step back. "Yer askin' me ta jus' stand by an' watch as tha' man takes everythin' yah've got ta give – but I won't do it. I _refuse_. He'll suck ya dry, aibou, an' am not about ta sit idly on tha sidelines an' let it happen."

I could only watch as Shirosaki quickly rinsed off, stunned into speechlessness by the onslaught of his unexpected 'counsel'. He casually stepped out afterward, tying a towel around alabaster hips as he made for the door. When he opened it he paused, glancing back over his shoulder but not actually looking at me.

"I'll give yah 'til tha end a'mah break here ta figure out exactly what it is tha' yah want, Ichigo. If yah haven't made a decision by then, then am takin' yah with me. I won't let yah perish here all alone." He cracked a sly smirk then, his sharp, white teeth practically gleaming under the bright, bathroom lights. "Now hurry up an' get dressed before am tempted ta fuck yer brains out. I'll make us some dinner."

I frowned after his retreating form, my mind working a mile a minute. Talk about fucking bipolar…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh me, oh my. This has been a long time coming. I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, I got a lot more carried away with 'Red Dead Bleach' than I had originally anticipated, and honestly? This particular chapter gave me a lot of bother. I don't know why, and am still not entirely happy with it, but I guess as long as you guys approve, then s'all good with me ^^**

**Um, yosh, so I had a few request about Ichigo and Grimm's first meeting, so there yah have it~ I know it's all very teasy, but if I'd gone lemon instead of lemon_ette_, it'd never be finished! I get far too carried away with descriptions, hence I had ta break it up a lot. Hope it ain't too much of a disappointment.**

**Hm, I dunno about you guys, but I love ShiroIchi gettin' all fluffy in the shower~ Even when they're not goin' at it like snowy and tangerine bunnies, they're still incredibubbly hawt... Purr~**

**I promise to delve into some hard hittin' drama soon, my sweets, but fer now I can only hope ya'll enjoyed the latest instalment. In the meantime, I'm off ta kick life's ass fer draining me of my will ta write recently. 'Scuse me... *rolls up sleeves***

**Enjoy at yer own risk, and ciao fer now**

**Toringtino~**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Yah'll know the drill. I own diddly-squat, and sob frequently because of this fact.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight<p>

Waking to the sound of my alarm clock blaring mere centimetres from my ear, I groggily reached an arm out of the duvet cocoon I'd unconsciously created around myself and battered at the infernal contraption until the noise died. Huffing, I release my sleep warmed body from its confines, rolling over onto my back and scrubbing a hand over my face. I idly note that I could do with a shave today, but quickly file that thought away under the 'Least of my Concerns' category of my mental filling cabinet.

Forcing myself to sit up, I stretch my arms high above my head until I hear the few pops of my vertebrae realigning. Shit, I can't believe its nine o'clock already. I feel like I slept maybe two, three hours tops. I've been having trouble with that over the past few weeks, actually. If it's not Tia pawing all over me at ungodly hours during the night, apparently driven by a surge in hormones, then it's my own traitorous mind plaguing me with images of a heartbroken Ichigo.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, I shake my head. It's approaching week number three since I last saw my Berry. Well, physically at any rate. To say that I'm dying just to pet my fingers through those luminous tresses and hear that honeyed baritone say my name would be a grave understatement if ever there was one. Christ, I didn't think it was possible to miss one person so fucking much. I guess, with just how batshit insane my world has turned recently, I need something a little more stable to hold onto. Kurosaki's always been that to me, though I highly doubt he realises it. No matter what's going on around me, I find that as soon as I'm in his company, regardless of what we're doing, everything else seems to…I don't know, simply melt away. Everybody and everything may as well be white noise in the background, for Kurosaki engulfs all of my senses, and with such fucking ease it should be criminal.

I don't want to say I've been avoiding the brat, but if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I suppose I really have been. I mean, where the fuck do I even begin with that? "Oh, hey there, Kurosaki. I would've met up with ya sooner, but I've been crazy busy looking after my very pregnant wife. What's that? I didn't mention she's carrying my child? Oops, my bad." Yeah, that's going to go down like a fucking lead balloon. It's not like it isn't true, I really have been busy caring for Tia; between antenatal appointments with the midwife, dealing with frankly monstrous mood swings where I can expect to find my blonde bombshell hunched over sobbing uncontrollably one minute, and humming a jaunty tune as she fixes herself her fifth midday snack before dinner the next, and don't even get me started on her vastly fluctuating libido. It seems I can't even walk past the hormonal psychopath without getting my bones jumped. The midwife told us that this is perfectly natural, that due to an increase in progesterone and estrogen – if that's even right – causes increased sensitivity and blood flow to the pelvic area. Something like that. All I know is that I'm no longer safe in my own home.

Ironically, all Tia's increased sex drive does is serve to remind me that its been much too long since I had my arms wrapped around Kurosaki, since I last felt _his_ heat grip me, _his_ voice purring in my ear, _his_ body curled around mine in post-coital bliss. Ah fuck, I'd really better get up before my morning arousal becomes any more prominent and…bothersome.

After a long, cold shower, I finally dress myself in a pair of pressed black slacks and a royal blue shirt before heading downstairs. As I head for the kitchen, I realise that something is off. There's a weird sound resonating around my rather large abode, and it's one I haven't heard in quite some time…

_Silence_. Quiet, peaceful, undisturbed _silence_. By fuck it's so wonderful I take a brief moment to stop and savour it, a lazy grin curling my mouth as I spread my arms wide, as if embracing the beautiful nothingness.

I probably look ten different shades of rare, but I couldn't give a flying fuck. For the past few days I've been subjected to the torture that is overly excited females. Who'd have thought that something as simple as pregnancy could get them so fucking ga-ga? Originally, Tia and I had agreed that we weren't going to tell anybody about our, err, little bundle of news just yet. Tia taking the paranoid, wives-tale route of not wanting to jinx herself so early on in the pregnancy, and me for the obvious reason of not needing said news to fall upon the wrong set of ears before I had the chance to do it myself. Of course, I should have known that our pact didn't extend to 'friends so close they're practically family'. Needless to say all included were warned, and warned _thoroughly_, that if they let word slip, it would be the last thing they could _ever_ say.

So yes, I think after so many mornings of waking up to fangirl worthy shrieks and squeals of excitement – if not already previously wakened to a ravenous blonde already straddling my morning wood, that was – that I'm more than entitled to bask in the glory that is golden peace.

When I enter the kitchen, not even the creepy yellow eyes of the demon-pet we call 'kitty' can sour my good mood, and I even go as far as to give the moggy a quick scratch behind the ear as I pass on my way to flip the kettle on. Kira looks as unsettled as I felt actually doing it, and wearisomely flicks his tail from side to side, glaring at me as I rest my back against the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

"Don't get used to it," I warn him as I return his stony gaze. Turning and seizing my cigarettes from the windowsill, I strain my ears, listening for any signs that I'm not as alone as I think. "Tia, babe?" I call out warily, my brow furrowing as I expect my moment of serenity to come to an untimely end.

When I'm met with nothing more than the kettle clicking off, I smirk, pulling a cigarette from the pack and lighting up with a happy sigh. Taking an extra long drag, I set about making myself my morning coffee, taking a tentative sip of the caffeine laced liquid before slumping down into a stool at the breakfast bar. Making myself comfortable, I pick up the morning paper sitting on top of a whole stack of glossy fashion magazines, rolling my eyes as I set my coffee aside and grip my cigarette between my teeth, leaving my hands free to spread the printed paper out in front of me.

Sports and business, that's what I'm all about when it comes to the news, was all that interested me enough to even pick up a newspaper in the first place. Thought that little fact has changed somewhat recently. Now I find myself skimming through the gossip sections, even though I really don't want to. I know that I'm not going to like what I find, just like every other time I end up glancing over it. As per usual, I'm neither surprised nor pleased at what I find. This here is all I ever see of Kurosaki these days, those beautiful eyes and sexy grin plastered all over the tabloids, and always alongside a purely feral smirk ripping across pale lips, and hauntingly captivating gold irises practically glowing with mirth. Today features the oddly similar featured duo coming out of a department store, that albino prick with his arm slung lazily over my Berry's shoulders as they crack up over something. Christ on a bicycle, the brat looks so beautiful. He's wearing tight stonewash jeans, a simple black polo, grey chucks, and a black and white chequered scarf that I know is for fashion more than practicality. His smile is so wide you can almost see every one of his damn teeth, and those gorgeous ochre eyes are shining with a joy so potent I can feel it infecting my own lips. He looks so carefree, so jubilant and happy.

It makes my fucking blood _boil_.

The caption in bold, loud lettering above the picture states; _**"The 'Saki Twins': Bromance? Or just plain Romance?"**_

A guttural snarl rushes past the sneer warping my lips, and before I know it I've ripped the page out and hurled it across the room, narrowly missing hitting Kira on the side of the head. Fucker's lucky I didn't throw my mug.

"Fuckin' Shirosaki," I growl, the smoke from my last inhale filtering out from behind my clenched teeth. That albino bastard has been getting the jump on me ever since I last saw my Strawberry, and there's fuck all I can do about it. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, I still have the little Snowflake's warning running through my brain like a fucking mantra ever since that night I gave him a ride home.

Fuck me, what a stupid goddamn idea that had been…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Just over two and a half weeks ago<strong>_

I could only watch with a sly grin twisting my lips as Kurosaki stormed off toward his apartment, a brilliant blush painting his checks and, undoubtedly, the back of his neck after our little display of affection. Christ he gets so flustered so easily it's like I don't even have to _try_ to embarrass him anymore, because he ends up doing all the work for me. My amusement is short lived however, when I suddenly find myself with a less than welcome guest.

Shirosaki parks his sodden ass right in the passenger seat, pulling his hood down and sighing in contentment from the welcoming heat of the car, and all whilst pretending he can't see the seething death glare I'm sending in his direction. When he buckles himself in and turns to give me a pointed look, like "Why the hell aren't we moving yet?", I feel my lip curling.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't smack you square in the jaw right now, and I'll think about lettin' ya survive the time it'll take ya to get the fuck out'a my car."

Shirosaki tutted, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "Yah can put yer hackles down now, kitten. Ichi's gone, no need ta go gettin' all Alpha on my ass."

"Get. The fuck. Out," I rumble, fighting hard against the insisting need to sock the cunt right in the eye.

"Now, now," Shirosaki drawled, turning a devious smirk on me. "Think about tha big picture here! If yah act like a mature, reasonable adult – y'know, like yer _supposed_ ta be – am sure King would greatly…_appreciate_ it."

Clenching my jaw, I realise that I could spend just as much time sitting here arguing with the damn kid as it would take to just drive him home. Not seeing much of a choice, you know, other than beating him senseless and risking Kurosaki's hot-tempered wrath, I simply snort derisively and pull away from the curb.

"Awh, yer much too kind, Grimmjaw," Shirosaki hums in that echoic, almost watery sounding voice of his as he makes himself comfortable. I can only cringe as I hear his waterlogged clothing squelching against the leather. "Offerin' ta drive a poor man home in this horrid weather. Such a gentleman."

"Yeah, I'ma fuckin' saint," I mutter. Not that I 'offered' him anything. "And it's Grimm_jow_, you fucking illiterate. Get it right, or don't say it at all. Preferably the latter."

"Cannae help it," Shirosaki shrugged, still grinning like an idiot. "Jus' tha way it comes out m'afraid. It's a left here, by tha way."

Making the amendment, I ease the car to a stop at the traffic lights, waiting for the green go-ahead. Resting my right elbow against the window, I pillow my cheek on my fist whilst simultaneously drumming my left fingers against the steering wheel, a habit I find myself indulging in when left waiting around in the car. Glancing through the corner of my eye, I can see Shirosaki slouching down in his seat, his snowy locks glowing a demonish red from the lights above our head as he gazes out his own window. As it is, I'm perfectly content to just drive in absolute silence, drop him off, and get the hell home already. But apparently my brain and mouth are conspiring against me, and I find my voice filling the uncomfortable void between us.

"So, just what in the hell are you to Kurosaki anyway? And no dickin' me around, Snowball. I want the truth."

A small grin snaked across pale lips as he slowly turned his attention to me, and I just _knew_ that I was about to regret ever bringing the subject up.

"It's hard ta say," he began, though that cocky expression on his face read; _'But am gonna tell yah anyway'_. "I guess yah could say tha' I'm his other half."

"Tch, _right_," I scoff, putting the Audi back into drive as the light finally changes. "If Kurosaki was datin' ya, I think I'd know about it."

"Hm, how unusual…" he muses, causing me to cock a brow in question. "Normally mah King has impeccable taste when it comes ta tha company he keeps – but it would appear he really let tha ball drop on this one."

That makes me frown. "The fuck're you talkin' about?"

Shirosaki chuckles, and I can't help but notice that that unique tone of his makes it sound more like a cackle than anything else.

"Yer so unnecessarily paranoid, partner," he tells me, pinning me with what I can only describe as a malicious smirk. "I never said I was his lover. When I said I was his _other half_, I meant it quite literally, 'cause tha's exactly what I am. We're two halves of tha same whole, tha King and I. Where he fails ta make tha cut, I'm there ta pick up tha slack. Oh, take tha right up ahead, kitty."

"The next time ya call me 'kitty', or any goddamn variation of the word, I'm hittin' seventy and kickin' yer snow-white ass out, got that?"

"_Me-ow_," Shirosaki giggled – that's right, you fucking heard me. Though, coming from him, it somehow manages to sound eerily sinister, like the serial killer from your favourite horror flick right before he guts the latest innocent victim. It's almost enough to make me shudder. "Yah sure are a feisty one, ain't'cha, Blue? Am beginnin' ta see why King fell so hard fer yah. S'almost a shame he got ta yah first…" Before I can ask just what in the name of holy good fuck that was supposed to mean, an alabaster hand is tracking through the fine hair at the nape of my neck, making me flinch and giving rise to goosebumps the whole way down my spine. "I know jus' how ta make men like you _sing…_"

"Little boys like you wouldn't know how to handle men like me if ya had a fuckin' guidebook," I sneered, violently batting his hand away from my person. "Touch me again, and I'll make sure you lose said limb completely. Understood?"

To my dismay, and admittedly a tad bit of surprise, the man merely grinned, those exotic gold-on-obsidian pools glittering with something I'm not entirely sure I _want_ to place. "Readin' yah loud an' clear, tiger," he smirked, leaning back out of my personal bubble once more. "Heh, at least I know tha' King is in good hands." And suddenly that look was back again. "Care ta show me just how good they are…?"

"I ain't gonna warn you again," I growl, giving him as heated a glare as I can manage whilst dividing my attention between himself and the road ahead. Fuck me, this brat is turning out to be just as much of a fucking handful as the other. Deciding we need a quick change in conversation, I press on with a question that's been annoying me for the past half hour or so. "What's with you and callin' Ichigo 'King'? That supposed to be some inside endearment or somethin'?"

"Endearment? Yer havin' a fuckin' laugh!" Shirosaki cracked up, directing me to take the next left. "If anythin', he hates it. Almost as much as bein' called 'Berry'."

I scowl, flipping on the indicator. I vaguely recognise where we are, though that information is sitting firmly on the backburner for the time being. "Well, if it's not some kind'a fancy lil' nickname, then what's the story?"

Shirosaki sighs at that, reclining deep into his seat as he ruffles a hand through his snowy spikes, little flecks of water catching in the glow of the streetlights as they pass overhead. This might have bothered me, if I wasn't more concerned about the sudden faraway look that's descended over alabaster features, an almost tranquil smile quirking his lips. I may not have known the younger male for long, but even I can tell that such a placid expression isn't normally suited upon his face. It's kind of unnerving, and I find myself focusing my full attention on the road.

"It may have escaped yer primitive notice," he begins, his voice as soft as I've ever heard it. "But Ichi is far superior ta people like you an' me. He is King because he _deserves_ ta be. People like him will always stand so far above our heads, we could never hope ta reach 'em, even if we had all tha time in tha fuckin' world ta try." He turns to me then, and all of a sudden he's back to his old self, if not a tad bit angrier. "An' whaddya do ta yer King? Yah treat 'im like yer fuckin' subordinate. No wonder yah never could keep a tight rein on 'im. Tch. Yer pathetic, Grimm_jow_." I know I berated him not ten minutes ago over the matter, but the way he pronounces my name, even more so when enunciated correctly, has the fine hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. "Ichi deserves so much better, someone who knows their place and, more importantly, _his_."

"Lemme guess," I sneer, all but baring my teeth at the smaller man. "He deserves someone just like _you?_"

Shirosaki grins, but there's nothing happy about the look. It's more conniving and crooked than that. I imagine its what a Great White would smile like if it could.

"Hn. Maybe yer not as stupid as yah look after all," he comments, his voice taunting and thick with condemnation as he tells me to pull over. "Here's a lil' piece of advice fer yah kitten, free a'charge. Let's call it a…_friendly warnin'_."

I can feel my brows furrowing into a dark glower as I park up at the side of the curb. "Oh yeah? And what would that be, Snowflake?"

"Bad little kitty's tha' are too greedy, tha' spend too much time toyin' with their prey, are liable ta see said prey wrigglin' outta their grasp. Or, alternatively, they run tha risk of invitin' tha bigger predators _out ta play_."

"That supposed to be a threat?"

The sinister smirk slowly ripping across Shirosaki's face was so chockfull of malevolent intent I could almost taste the bitterness of it on the tip of my tongue. He unlatched his seatbelt, letting it reel back into place with a resounding _thwack_ that had my brow twitching in irritation.

"Yah better watch yer back _kitten_," he tells me, his tone deathly serious in spite of the words pouring out like velvety purr. "'Cause there's a new predator in town, an' I can assure yah…y'ain't never met a motherfucker like _me_ before."

Of course, I'm sitting there absolutely fucking livid. Not only did the little shit just openly challenge me, but he then goes and brings my Berry into the equation. However, before I can even rearrange my furious thoughts into some sort of comprehensible order, I find myself even further disconcerted when cool, surprisingly soft pale lips capture mine in a swift, yet thoroughly invasive kiss.

It's over as abruptly as it starts, the surreptitious albino quickly drawing back out of reach before I can physically reprimand him for the sneak attack. He's up and out of the door before I can even remind myself to breathe.

"Catch yah later, _partner…_" he smirks, letting the door swing shut with a quick flick of the wrist. He doesn't bother with a backward glance, but gives a small salute over his shoulder like he _knows_ that I'm still watching him.

Well, fuck me sideways. If I was livid before, then there's no fucking word yet created to describe how I'm feeling right now.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present<strong>_

That goddamn conniving albino. I cannot fucking believe that his lips have a fresher imprint on my memory than Kurosaki's. Taking a long drag of my cigarette, I let it out slowly through my nose, glaring at nothing in particular but rather doing so just because it feels like an appropriate expression to equip at the moment.

My sudden declination in mood is only heightened when I hear the front door opening, followed instantaneously by not one, but a few chipper voices. Oh great, that can only mean one thing; the 'Harribel fanclub' is here. Remember all the shrieking and squealing I was talking about earlier? Well, meet the culprits. Tia claims that they are her greatest friends, that they're "thicker than blood" or some shit, but I'm convinced that the sole reason for their combined existence is to make _my_ life a living hell.

It's only when they suddenly barge into the kitchen, with Tia at the forefront of her gaggle of faithful 'faction', that I remember my grand oversight. With the ominous glare my blonde bride aims at the cigarette still gripped between my middle and index fingers, I'm surprised the poor thing didn't spontaneously combust. Or me, for that matter.

Damn it all, and my morning had started out so well, too.

"Grimmjow," Tia scorns, folding her arms. "I thought we discussed this already?"

I tried to stop the imminent eye roll, but it pushed through regardless. "We didn't so much _discuss_ it as you _told_ me not to do it," I muttered even as I got up to flick the thing out the back door. Taking in the obvious air of offended, I was quick to add, "Sorry, babe. I thought you'd be gone longer."

This seemed to appease her somewhat, and I inwardly sighed in relief. As long as she doesn't break down into tears again, it's all good. I can handle almost any emotion you could think to throw my way, but crying? Against _that_, I'm absolutely defenceless.

Tia steps up to me then, her hair in its usual mess of canary yellow spikes and long braids, her bright emerald eyes crinkled cutely at the corners and shining like clear-cut gems. Now that she's into her second trimester, she's finally getting over the more ailing part of her pregnancy, her morning sickness reduced to a few times a week instead of every day, and her mocha skin practically glowing as she fills out her curves. Again perfectly normal, as the midwife informed us.

Letting my cerulean gaze travel over said curves, I notice that she opted to wear a white, strappy dress and flat white shoes. Now, for sixteen weeks up the duff – shit, I must remember to filter my words better – she isn't really showing yet, by which I mean there isn't much of a bump there. However, I cant help but muse that white definitely makes what little there _is_ to show off a lot more noticeable than black and darker colours do, making me itch to ask where's she's been today, and if she talked to anyone I should be aware of. But, knowing there's no way to ask such a thing without it sounding like an interrogation, I merely bite my tongue and pray that she kept to herself.

I'm abruptly pulled from my thoughts when slim fingers suddenly delve through my hair and I'm yanked down into a much too hungry kiss whilst entertaining an audience. The demanding, almost aggressive, contact has me wrinkling my nose in distaste. I'm used to the Kurosaki brat getting a little out of hand when we're being intimate, but Tia's never been the type. Sure she'll tell me what she wants and when she wants it, but she's never once challenged me for it. In all honesty, I just can't get used to it, and it's not like I can fight her as passionately as I would my Berry. Which only goes double now in her condition.

For once, her trio of friends actually comes in useful as one of them clears their throat, obviously feeling a tad bit awkward with the intensity of what should have been a simple "Welcome home" kiss.

Tia shyly pulls away, mumbling a quick apology. I'm not entirely sure who it was aimed at. I smirk at the cute flush to her cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before glaring at the three women cluttering up my kitchen. Not because I'm angry they interrupted, but rather because we've never gotten along – and because sometimes it's just too much fun being a dick.

Mila Rose, a tall, dark skinned woman with thick, wavy brown hair, green eyes and a toned body scarily reminiscent of an Amazonian warrior, was one of Tia's many models, alongside the vastly contrasting Sung-Sun, who's a lot smaller in both height and build, with soft, pale lavender coloured eyes and long, poker straight hair that I swear has an almost olive-green sheen to it under the right light. I would say that Sung-Sun was by far the most composed, mature, and easily the most intelligent of the three, whereas Mila Rose, whilst fairly rational at the best of times, just couldn't seem to keep a hold of her hot-blooded temper when it came to the final member of the group.

"It absolutely reeks of smoke in here, Jaegerjaques. You do remember that your wife is _pregnant_, right?"

Speaking of which…

I turned narrowed eyes on the bitchiest member of the small group, the only one who never addressed me by my first name. _Apacci_, my mind snarled. The tomboyish short-arse had jaw-length black hair and a touch of heterochromia, which in layman's terms simply means that she has two different coloured eyes; one being an earthy amber, and the other an icy blue – the only thing even _remotely_ interesting about the annoying, loud mouthed midget if you ask me. Nobody ever does though. Apacci is Tia's apprentice, but with a frankly dire personality – impatient, short-tempered, rude, impulsive, and extremely confrontational to name but a few – it's a fucking miracle that Tia can put up with her at all.

Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm a man. I can get away with personality traits like that, whereas she has no excuse.

Before I can even open my mouth to defend myself, Mila Rose is all over her case. "What a stupid question – of course he remembers! It does takes _two_ to make a baby, ya know. Or maybe you don't? I don't know, it's always hard to tell what ignorant little children such as yourself know these days…"

"Who the fuck are you callin' a _child_, Mila!" Apacci hissed, her hands balling into fists. "Of course I know that, ya retard! I was being sarcastic to get my point across!"

"Why you little–! I ought'a kick your bony ass for that remark!"

Apacci literally stepped up to the challenge, having to reach up on her tiptoes just to get in the taller woman's face – which was fucking hilarious to witness, in case you're wondering.

"Oh yeah? Bring it on, ya fat cow!"

I couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath at that. I may not know much about the opposite sex, but the one thing that every single entity on the face of the planet knows is; you never, _ever_, bring a woman's weight into an argument. Regardless of gender.

Predictably, Mila Rose's eyes were burning with fury, though the sly smirk tilting her lips was enough to let me know that she wasn't going to pull her punches just yet. "You shouldn't be so jealous of my curves, Apacci, just because you're a flat-chested, squatty little girly-boy!"

Sensing that the whole fiasco was getting out of hand when the two women growled and butted foreheads like fucking mountain goats with a chip on their shoulder, Tia quickly intervened, prying the two apart as she used her body like a shield between them. I was all for letting them duke it out, figuring that one of them would surely destroy the other in an epic bitch-fit, and thus reducing the troublesome trio to a more tolerable disastrous duo. It was great, like watching a low-end boxing match on pay-per-view.

"Cut it out you two," Tia admonished, a hand planted firmly on each of their heaving chests. "You're starting to give me a headache with all that racket."

"I agree with Tia," Sung-Sun finally piped up, her eyes flashing mischievously as she eyed her two glaring companions. "The faces you both pull when angry are downright hideous, and I can't be seen associating with such an atrocity."

"You shut the hell up, Sung-Sun!" Apacci raged, Mila Rose adding her own two cents with a scathing, "You _would_ know about hideous, ya bloody stick insect!"

Figures, the only time the two volatile women band together is when ganging up on the third. Chick mentality will forever remain one of the greatest mysteries to mankind the world over.

I can honestly say I have never been more ecstatic to hear my ringtone suddenly shouting out from pants pocket. Seriously, if I didn't think it would look so fucking stupid, I'd have jumped for joy. As it was, I simply gave Tia a sympathetic look as she dealt with her warring gal pals like a flustered mother would her rowing children – because really, that's exactly what they were – and made a hasty retreat out into the hall.

Glancing at the screen, I put the phone to my ear. "Nelly," I sighed upon answering. "You have no idea how happy I am you called–"

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaques!" my clearly irate sister slash personal assistant bellowed, causing me to cringe and hold the small device away from my unsuspecting, and now thoroughly abused eardrum.

"Or not…" I muttered before cautiously returning the mobile within hearing range. "What the hell crawled up your ass? Christ, you women are gonna be the death of me today…"

"I couldn't give a fucking rat's ass about _your_ problems, brother! What about _mine_, huh?"

Hn, she must be particularly riled up if she's cursing so early in the morning, which can only spell trouble for yours truly. Groaning at the horrific turn my otherwise bright day has taken, I rub at my temple with my free hand and scowl at the wall across from me.

"Just calm the hell down and tell me what's goin' on. And for the love of Christ, no more yelling. I can't take anymore yelling…"

"Well I'm sorry, but you're shit out of luck on that one, Grimmy! You were supposed to be down here at the office for nine-thirty sharp for your first meeting, and it's already…" Insert pause here whilst she checks her watch. "…ten to ten! Now I'm going to have to do even _more_ juggling around to make the rest of your appointments fit, _on top_ of the juggling I've _already_ done just to squeeze them all in in the first place!"

Oh yeah, here comes my daily migraine, right on fucking schedule.

"Gimme a goddamn break, Nels," I sigh, sliding down the wall until I'm sitting on the hardwood floor. "It's Saturday, for fuck's sake. Why the hell do I have so many bloody meetings anyway?"

There was a long moment of deadly silence, which had me instantly regretting my words, even though I have no idea why.

"Please tell me you're joking, Grimmjow…that _was_ a joke, right?"

I immediately falter. "Uh, well…that is, I…"

"I'm going to kill you." My brows shoot up at the absolute conviction in that one sentence. She's not kidding around in the fucking slightest. "I told you at the very _start_ of the week, and then sent _several_ reminders and memos _throughout_ the week, telling you that I had to shift things around because of the hospital gala tonight. I had to fit three very important business conferences, including one with the board of directors, and two face-to-face clientele meetings that I just couldn't shake off of our asses, all within a time frame of six hours – and all so that you could get your lazy carcass down to the tailors to get your new suit fitted in time for tonight!"

Trailing a hand irritably through my hair, I growled in response to my apparently busy workday. "Fuck me, that's a lot to do… Why did ya book me in for a new suit though? I've got plenty here I could wear! In fact, there's always my–"

"If you even _think_ of mentioning that god-awful white suit of yours, I'm gonna reach right through this phone and throttle the life outta you!"

That made me frown rather petulantly. "What's wrong with my white suit?"

There was a heavy sigh from the other end. "You're supposed to be going as a mature, respectable benefactor, Grimmjow, not a bloody crony from an Al Pachino gangster movie! And besides, I actually have to be _seen_ with you tonight, and I outright refuse to be photographed next to you with that unsightly mess adorning your body!"

Taking a long, deep breath before I explode, or implode, or whatever this fucking ticking time bomb within my subconscious is going to do to me, I answer with a displeased but agreeable, "Fine! I'll wear whatever fuckin' monkey suit ya want! But I swear to the Almighty above, if I end up lookin' like a ponce…"

I trail off, letting the threat speak for itself. Nelliel giggles, obviously a lot happier now that she's gotten her way. Just like fucking always.

"Oh don't worry, Grimmy! With me as your personal shopper, it couldn't possibly go wrong~!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>8:29PM<strong>_

At this particular moment in time, I find myself standing just outside the entrance to the grand hall where the fundraising gala for Karakura General is taking place, with two extravagant looking women on either side of me, a whole sea of flashing bulbs going off in my face, a swarm of nosy journalists hurling question after hopeful question in our direction, and myself looking like…_a fucking ponce_. As soon as there are no witnesses around, I am going to kill my sister. Ever so slowly.

Nelliel – standing on my left in a tight, fern green dress and precariously high black stilettos – and Tia – occupying my right in a floor length, strapless black evening gown – both say that I look "dashing", and "oh so very smart" in my black pinstripe suit, with matching waistcoat, white shirt, and teal tie, but I remain sceptical. I _loathe_ wearing suits. Give me a pair of comfortable sweats and my old university sweatshirt any day. Heh, the same tattered grey hoody that Ichigo loves to drown himself in when he gets the chance. There's just something about the Berry wearing that raggedy old thing that makes me want to rip it right back off again. Maybe it's the way the sleeves fall over his hands, or the way he pulls the hood up and snuggles down into it, claiming that its absolutely saturated in my scent… Fuck its adorable.

Ahem. Let's get back to the point, yeah? Nelliel tried to argue that I wear them nearly every day to work, to which I replied with the logical rebuttal of; all the more reason to hate the fucking things. And besides, when I normally wear them, I tend to be very casual about it, what with the top buttons always undone, the very rare use of a tie, and the absolutely nonexistent use of a goddamn, useless waistcoat. As it is, I cannot stop fiddling with the damn extras that I'm not used to, and it's beginning to get on everyone's nerves.

"_Grimmjow_," Nelliel hisses at me, doing that stupid talking through her teeth thing that people do when they can't afford to drop their smile. "If you don't stop fidgeting with that bloody tie, I'm going to break every single one of your fingers…" And big grin for the cameras before the finisher; "…and then string you up with it – you hear me?"

I twisted my lips into a sneer, not caring in the slightest what tabloid or magazine was currently trying their damnedest to blind me. "If you'd just let me get rid'a the tie and pop open a few buttons so that I could, y'know, _breathe_…"

"Keep. It. On," she warned, turning a stony wheaten glower my way. "I picked it out specially to match your hair."

"It's at least a shade too dark," I retort, tugging on the damn material for emphasis.

This time her eyes soften, taking on a pleading hue. "Grimmy…"

I don't answer her in words, simply baring my teeth to display my displeasure, letting her know she's won this round. The little bitch grins triumphantly, knowing full well she was playing dirty, but at least I can take a small amount of solace in my one minor victory of the night. Nelliel had left it up to me to hire a limo for the night – I would have personally preferred to take the R8, my baby, but with it only being a two-seater, and Nelliel refusing point blank to arrive on her own, it was out of the question. She'd asked for a plain stretch limo, nothing too fancy or ostentatious, so naturally, for the earlier Al Pachino remark, I went ahead and got us a white, six-man Rolls Royce Excalibur limousine. I know it was only meant to piss my neurotic sister off, and believe me, the sight of her jaw dropping and her eyes bugging out of their sockets when it rolled up was _priceless_, but I gotta admit, I felt fucking _pimpin'_ stepping out of that bad boy, no matter how daft I felt in my suit.

Snapping out of my musings when yet another round of flashes went off, I quickly ushered the two females inside before I developed a sudden case of epilepsy and took a fit on the steps. Damn paparazzi vultures.

Taking a quick glance around, I was rather impressed with the fancy décor of the place. There was a stage set up to the far right of the hall, with a small glass podium and two long tables laid out on either side, no doubt for the likes of CEOs, the Chief of Medicine, and the more notable benefactors of the evening. Circular tables covered in white tablecloths and various lavish centre pieces were placed from the front of the stage all the way back to where we stood, with a small cleared area to the left giving room to a dance floor situated in front of a separate platform where a band was set up and already playing. Some sort of swing band, by the sounds of things. There was a grand chandelier hanging over the centre of the hall, highlighting the teeming horde of bodies in the place, each and every one decked out in expensive suits, designer dresses, and dazzling Hollywood smiles. Pearls, jewels and diamonds were shining at every turn, women clutching the latest Louis Vuitton purses under their arms, and the men sporting platinum Rolex watches and large signet rings, some smoking Cuban cigars at the more secluded tables by the bar whilst their wives, girlfriends, or just plain old pieces of arm-candy stood around in small groups, trading false compliments and words of the latest juicy gossip.

Speaking of the bar…

"I'm gonna hit the waterin' hole, see who's around," I told my 'dates', noticing that Tia was already waving at some leggy brunette across the room.

"Okay, baby," Tia replies distractedly, snatching up Nelliel's wrist before she can scamper off. "C'mon, Nels. That's Maia Fabiano, a lead designer for Versace…"

"Oooh~ Do I smell future discounts?" Nelliel simpered excitedly as she was escorted away, though not before giving me the firm instruction of, "Don't get too rat-arsed this time!"

Rolling my eyes, I head straight for the four-manned bar, muttering a tetchy, "I can do whatever the hell I like, woman." Under my breath, of course, and only after she was well out of earshot.

Not that I'm afraid of my baby sister or anything. Don't be fucking ridiculous.

* * *

><p><em><strong>10:44PM<strong>_

The festivities of the night are already well under way, and I have yet to move from my much too comfortable barstool. I can see everything going on perfectly fine from right here, and have been keeping a close eye on Tia as she flits from one circle of women to the next. We agreed before coming that she wouldn't breathe a word of her current 'condition' to anyone, and thus far no one seems to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Like I said, black hides the minor swell of her abdomen quite well. I would reckon most people would assume she'd scarffed one too many éclairs before they'd ever figure she was pregnant, which was just fine by me. The majority of these women wouldn't ever dare say any such thing to her face anyway, so it's all good.

As of now, I find myself nursing my fourth White Russian, after my initial two dry Martinis, and talking to some pretty random guy who claims he's an on-call doctor for the hospital, on top of running his own clinic. I don't know though, he's pretty fucking weird. I sincerely doubt I'd let him look after my dog when I went away on holiday, let alone put him charge of something as fragile and precious as my own body. Sound old bloke though, and funny as hell, too. Though I'm not sure if he's actually _trying_ to be funny, or whether he's just that fucking retarded…

It isn't until ten minutes after I first started talking with him, when a pretty little strawberry-blonde – an intern, from what I figure – captures his attention for a brief greeting, and calls him "Doctor Kurosaki", that it all finally clicks into place.

Staring at him with wide eyes that I'm sure makes me look similar to an owl, I could slap myself for not putting the pieces together sooner. "Wait, so you're Isshin _Kurosaki?_"

The older man nods, his bearded face pulling up into a warm grin. "That's right, my man. Is something the matter?"

A small smirk curls my lips before I can stop it. "No, not at all. Ya don't happen to have a son, do ya?"

"Why yes, I do!" Isshin beams, clapping me on the shoulder. "He's here tonight, actually. Came with a good friend of his."

My smirk falters at that. Ichigo's _here?_ Shit. I certainly wasn't expecting that. I'm not quite ready to face him yet, I still haven't thought of what I'm going to say, how I'm going to tell him about Tia… My heart beating rapidly against my ribs, I swallow hard and subconsciously lower my head. I've made it over two hours without running into the brat thus far, so if I just keep a low profile, and keep away from the main crowds, I should be able to–

"Aa, there he is now…Ichigo! Over here, my virile son!"

–Fuck. Or maybe not…

"Dammit, Goat-Face. What have I told you about public? No ones supposed to know we're related!"

Hunching lower in my seat, I feel a hot, heavy ripple flood through me when that unmistakable honeyed timbre reaches my ears. Damn, even when he's scolding someone, he still sounds so unbelievably _sexy_.

"But, Ichigo, my beautiful boy," Isshin whines childishly from beside me. "There's someone here I want you to meet!"

"Oh? Who?"

I feel Isshin's hand squeezing my shoulder, and, knowing that short of making a break for the front doors that I ain't getting out of this one, I sigh and turn in my seat to face my Strawberry temptation. Dressed in a standard black tuxedo, he looks downright mouth-watering.

Ichigo's eyes damn near pop out of his skull, and before his father can even open his mouth, his uttering in a bewildered tone, "Grimmjow?"

I smile genuinely, an unfortunate side effect of hearing Kurosaki sounding out my name. "Yo, Kurosaki. S'happenin'?"

Isshin frowns, his eyes darting between us. "You two know each other?"

I can see Kurosaki flushing, his ears and the bridge of his nose turning a delicious shade of pink that has me gearing to attempt to lick the colour right off of his beautiful face. When he starts spluttering and gaping like a fish out of water in an attempt to think up an explanation, I chuckle and rush to his rescue.

"We met in a bar a few years back. Been…_chattin'_ on and off ever since." Kurosaki blushes a violent red at my sly insinuation, sending me a heated glare that has my fingers itching just to reach out and touch him. I guess that's why I was suddenly blurting out, "Say Isshin, ya don't mind if I steal your boy away for a bit, do ya? We have some catching up to do."

"A strapping, charming business man offering to escort my pride and joy around the gala? Why of course I don't mind!"

Nodding my thanks, I stood and quickly grabbed his wrist, trailing the flustered brat behind me as Isshin waves cheerily and shouts words of, "Take good care of my boy!" and "Be sure to behave yourselves!" and other such nonsense. I told you already, weird guy…

Keeping an eagle eye out for Tia, and spotting her bright blonde hair way across the room, I inconspicuously duck out of the main hall and into one of the deserted corridors, towing the fairly unresisting Kurosaki behind me, blatantly ignoring his questions of where we're going. Opening the very first door we come across, I shove him inside, checking over my shoulder before following him through.

Fumbling for a light switch, I flick it on, the dim yellow lighting revealing a small space cluttered with dusty old boxes, cleaning equipment, and shelves upon shelves of useless junk. Kurosaki chuckles, his ochre eyes alight with mirth.

"A supply closet? Really, Grimm? How cliché…"

Refusing to rise to the bait, I instead grip him by the back of the neck and crush our lips together in a brief but passionate kiss. I can feel Kurosaki smiling against my mouth, though he's hesitant to deepen the contact for some bizarre reason. With a few pressing questions of my own gnawing at me, I decide not to pry.

"What the hell are ya doin' here, Berry?" I ask him, my brows furrowed in confusion. This is bad, like _really_ fucking bad. If he happens to catch sight of Tia, and figures out what's up before I tell him, then I'm sunk.

Kurosaki shrugs at my question, his typical scowl out in full flourish. "I didn't even _want_ to be here." This doesn't surprise me. Kurosaki never has been too big on formal gatherings of any kind. "Shiro asked me what I was doing this weekend, and when I told him I was working, he just laughed, told me not to be so silly, and the next thing I know I'm here as his 'plus one'. Or 'date', as he insists on calling me."

"So…you're here with _him_, huh?" I scoff, crossing my arms. "I should'a fuckin' guessed."

"Well, yeah. I've been spending a lot of time with him lately, y'know, since I've nothing better to do…" He gives me a pointed look, to which I curl my lip. "I've been waiting to hear from you for a while now. Were you away on business again?"

_Tch. I fucking wish._

"No. I've just been…kind'a busy recently." I start wringing my hands, figuring that now would be as good a time as any to break the news to the kid. I mean, the sooner the better, right? Isn't that what everyone always says? Holy fuck, can't say I'm not shitting bricks right about now, though… "Listen, Kurosaki. Now that I've got ya here, there's somethin' I think I should tell ya…"

"Mm. Can't it wait?" the brat all but purrs, stepping up to me and running his hands up my chest. I shudder violently at the simple touch.

"Ah, shit…no, I really don't think it–"

"I've got a surprise for you…"

"–can?" Now _that_ certainly got my attention, and before I know it, my arms are curling around the small of his back to pull him close. "Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

Kurosaki smirks, leaning up to brush his lips teasingly across my own. "It's kind'a hard to explain, so why don't I just _show_ you instead?"

Slender fingers glide through my hair and yank me down before I can even get a word out, our mouths meeting in a much more fervent kiss than the first. I'm still intrigued about my so-called surprise, but figure I can hold out until I suck the damn brats face off.

Swiping my tongue over my Berry's petal soft lips, I pull him closer still when they part, granting me access with no qualms whatsoever. Humming my appreciation, I immediately invade, my senses going into overdrive at the palatable, saccharine flavour that is purely Ichigo Kurosaki. I cant even begin to describe how good it feels to have him back in my arms, to have my rock back so that I finally feel grounded and secure again.

Rumbling low in my chest, I let my large hands wander south, until their gripping firm, rounded globes. Kurosaki groans and presses harder against me, thrusting his tongue sensually over my own…and that's when I feel it. Something small and foreign within that warm cavern that certainly wasn't there before, something round and smooth dwelling within the territory I've long since laid claim to. My brows knit together as I play and experiment with the small object, trying to figure out what in the hell it is. Kurosaki chuckles against my mouth when I grasp it between my teeth and give a tentative tug, only to find that it's really stuck in there…

…and then suddenly I'm moaning my approval, releasing the brat's tongue at long last to draw back and nip playfully at his lips. "You kinky little bitch, you did not…"

Kurosaki laughs, his eyes flashing wickedly from behind his hooded lids. "Mmm, I did too…" he smirks. "Got it done just last week. I've been dying to…well, _test it out_, as it were." Letting his hands drop from my hair to hug around my neck, he gives me a sultry look that has my blood buzzing throughout my veins. He leans up, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of my neck. "I take it you like it?"

"Abso-fuckin'-loutely," I growl, fisting his hair and snapping his head back to take another taste.

Kurosaki moans wantonly as I circle my tongue around the small, metal nub, roughly forcing him back against the wall behind him. As he hitches a leg up around my hip, as my mouth explores his own and my hands hungrily trace that lean body, as he grinds himself into me and various items clatter to the ground around us, I'm vaguely aware of a nagging sensation sitting in the very forefront of my mind. It's badgering and berating me to remember something, something important, but fuck it all, I couldn't think straight right now if my life depended on it.

I violently shove the thought back, deciding that I will take care of whatever the hell it happens to be later on, when my blood flow has returned to the right head again.

"You look so fucking hot tonight, Grimm," the brat breathes against my lips when we part to replenish our depleting lungs.

I smirk, nipping at his neck as I take long inhales of his spicy cologne and sweet musk. "As do you, Berry. Real fuckin' sexy." I let my hands snake down his torso, pressing over muscular abdominals and running over slim hips, before tugging suggestively at the hem of his dress pants. "How's about I repay ya for your little 'gift', ne?"

The dark chocolate colour of his eyes, coupled with the mischievous grin tilting those kiss bruised lips, is all the answer I need. However, I get no further than unbuckling his belt before the door behind us suddenly swings open, both our hearts leaping into our throats as the light from the hallway spills in over our forms.

"Maa, maa. What an awfully compromisin' position ta find a married man in."

And, just like that, my crippling fear at the prospect of being caught out, has suddenly turned into seething frustration.

"Dammit, Shiro," Kurosaki curses, though there's a lot more relief than heat in his words. "You nearly put me into fucking cardiac arrest!"

Shirosaki chuckles, tsking loudly. "Aa, King, yah really shouldn't be complimentin' me in front a'yer beau. S'not good etiquette."

"Like you would know," I snort, brushing some imaginary lint from my shoulder. "Whaddya want, Snowflake? We're kind'a busy here."

"Yeah, I can see tha'…" the albino drawled, flashing me an impish grin I don't much like the look of. "I jus' thought I'd let yah's know tha' they're startin' tha announcements. An', since Ichi's Pops is up fer some kind'a honour, I reckoned he might like ta be present fer it."

I can't help my baffled expression as I turn to Kurosaki. "Your dad? An honour… _Really?_"

Kurosaki rolls his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah, as crazy as it sounds. It's to recognise all his hard work down at the clinic over the last couple of years. He took on quite a few major accident patients when Karakura General was struggling to give them beds, working night after night with little rest in between, and even temporarily employing me and my sisters to help out."

"Well fuck me sideways. So the old goofball has an ace or two hidden up his sleeve? I never would've guessed."

"If you two lovebirds are quite done," Shirosaki suddenly piped up, cocking his hip lazily against the doorjamb, "I think we should work on sneakin' our way back into tha main hall."

Reluctantly nodding our concurrence, I pull Kurosaki in for one last, languid kiss, Shirosaki audibly huffing at the scene, before letting him go and following the two out of the crowded space.

I guess our reunion, as well as my paramount news, will just have to wait a little longer.

* * *

><p><em><strong>11:33PM<strong>_

The surprisingly long list of achievements and medical acknowledgements – including Kurosaki's loony father for "outstanding work and commitment", and one Kisuke Urahara for his "amazing medical advancements" in his research and development department within the hospital, which shocked me to say the least, as I'm pretty sure that he's the brat's boss down at Vizards – is finally drawing to a close.

I'm now seated at one of the many tables near the front of the room, sandwiched between Tia and Nelliel, whilst dividing my attention between the Chief of Medicine, Sosuke Aizen, and my orange haired temptation sitting just two tables down to my left. He's sitting with Shirosaki, unsurprisingly, and a whole bunch of new faces. New _attractive_ faces. Undoubtedly model pals of the albino's.

Nelliel keeps shooting me condemning looks, silently slating me for my cowardice, just like she has been for weeks now. I ignore her. It's not like I wasn't _going_ to tell him, I just got a little distracted is all.

I'm not really paying attention to what's going on around me anymore, merely dying for this damn gala to hurry up and end so that I can work on a way of getting Kurosaki away from those infuriatingly handsome faces and on his own so that I can talk to him. If I don't do it tonight, then fuck knows when I'll wrack up the nerves to try it again.

"Well, it would seem that we are now at the conclusion of our grand catalogue of worthy achievers and, indeed, overachievers," Aizen was saying, the droll, drab monotone of his voice making me want to stick my fork through my hand just to liven things up a bit. "As always, the bar and band will be up for business until one, so please, do enjoy yourselves and–" I was already halfway through standing from my seat when Aizen suddenly stopped, glancing down at the sheet of paper on the podium in front of him with a slight frown creasing his brows. The brunette blinked a few times, before turning his attention back to the microphone. "Aa, my apologies. It would seem that a small congratulatory message has been added on to the end of our acknowledgements, and it would be rude not to recognise such a joyous announcement."

Grumbling, I slowly sit back down, drumming my fingers impatiently on the tabletop as I wordlessly screamed at him to hurry the fuck up. The next words out of his mouth, however, had my every nerve ending freezing over and my body going ramrod stiff.

"It appears as though Japan's biggest music legend, as well as world renowned record label company, Pantera Inc…"

I can feel my lungs constricting and my stomach roiling as I turn panic stricken eyes on Nelliel, who looks just as lost and confused as myself.

"…might just be getting the heir we've all been waiting for…"

My heart has slowed to a deathly crawl as my blood congeals to liquid ice.

No. Nonononono. This can't be happening…not _here_. Not _now_.

_Not like this._

"Please, everybody join me in giving a huge round of congratulatory applause…"

Shit.

_Shit._

_Shit, shit, fucking shit!_

"Tia…" I hiss across the table, taking hold of her elbow and squeezing perhaps a tad bit too hard as she winces. "What did you _do?_"

"Nothing! I didn't say a word to anyone, I swear!" she whispers back, the confused yet slightly wondrous gleam to her eyes letting me know that she's telling the truth.

I can feel ochre eyes burning into me, beseeching me to look their way and provide some sort of explanation, or soothing console maybe. But I can't. I'm literally rooted to the spot, my mouth feeling like cotton wool as face after face turns in our direction, smiling warmly as they wait for the big pronouncement, for the very line that is sure to shatter my life as I know it…_my very world_…

"…to Mr. and Mrs. Jaegerjaques as they expect their very first child, to be born within year and at the very establishment we are here to celebrate. Salutations to you both, we all wish you the best of luck."

An ear-splitting wave of sound erupts over us then, people clapping, whistling and offering words of congrats if they were close enough. Tia is blushing madly, a coy smile decorating her lips as she nods politely and thanks everyone she can possibly manage. I, on the other hand, feel like I'm going to be sick. The only person I can even bear to look in the eye, is the one man I really don't want to have to face.

Ochre eyes are wide and unbelieving, his features pulled into a palpable mixture of potent fury and devastating anguish. Slender fingers are balled into fists on top of the table, his whole frame shaking as he sets his jaw and holds my gaze. I can't tell if he's about to break down into tears or leap across the distance between us to beat me into oblivion. I honestly wouldn't blame him for either.

My heart splintering into a million microscopic pieces as he tears his gaze away from me, batting away the alabaster hand of support that was laid upon his shoulder, I can only watch as he rises from his seat without so much as a word to _anyone_ around him and takes off out the main doors.

People are trying to gain my attention, trying to tell me how happy the are for me and Tia, how we'll make wonderful parents and that we have many joyous years ahead of us. But I can't believe a single word of that. How can I, when the single most important thing in the entire cosmos to me has just…walked away?

Without even realising I'm doing it, I've reached out my hand after him, my fingers trembling as my lips form the only word that has ever truly meant anything to me…

"Ichigo…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh fuck me, another epically long one... _Buuuut_:**

**WHA-BAM!**

**How d'yah like them apples, huh? I really dropped tha bomb on yah'll in this one. And had immense fun whilst doing so.**

**I know I've left this one fer a while, and I apologise *cute lil' droopy ears* So I can only hope that this update will provide sufficient appease to all of yah who were waiting fer it. I can't believe how easy it was ta fall back into this story after leaving it fer so long, and oh what a joy it was ta finish~**

**So, the cat's out'a tha bag now. Eep. Poor Ichigo. And Grimmjow. And... Nope. That's it. Hopefully I won't quite as long with tha next chapter as I did with this one, but I ain't gonna go makin' any promises. I'm very tired a lot of the time, but just know tha' I try mah best fer you all. For serial.**

**Anywho, please do enjoy if yah wish~**

**Ciao fer now, mah sweets**

**Toringtino~**


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